Accidents Should Happen
by Cerrone17
Summary: Slightly AU. Hermione is in her 5th year and accidentally gets sent back in time when she breaks her Time Turner. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Permanent Fixtures

**A/N:** All characters/names/places/pronouns used in this story are property of J.K. Rowling.

Slightly AU. Hermione is in her 5th year and accidentally gets sent back in time when she breaks her Time Turner, with steamy results!

Quidditch World Cup has also been moved to 6th year.

* * *

As was her usual routine for Friday nights, Hermione Jean Granger sat, lit by a small candle, in the restricted section of the library, pouring over a small stack of books she'd pulled off the shelves. Peering around the small crevice she'd placed herself in, which was the best spot to hide from wandering prefects, even though she had cast concealment charms on her candles so only she could see them prefects would sometimes come prying, something she had learned the hard way after almost being caught more times than she cared to recall. She'd learned that, after her third or fourth time in this particular aisle, that one of the shelves was rickety and would make the most tell-tale creaks whenever she moved near it.

She ran her fingers over a section of the shelf which had huge chunks out of it, not entirely unlike a set of finger nails, as if someone had tried to pull the entire bookcase over, but gotten away with only a handful of shards.

"How disrespectful," Hermione thought to herself, "and in the restricted section no less!"

Hermione turned and felt a weight shift by her feet, she watched in absolute horror as a weighty volume, which she had been meaning to read tonight, fell off the shelf on which it was perched and tumbled, seemingly in slow motion and damned right. Onto. Her. Time-Turner. Cursing quietly under her breath (she was still in a library, after all) Hermione knelt down and fondled the remains of her prized possession, which was now a pile of glass, gold and sand, though a little relieved that nothing much worse had happened from the literal shattering of time.

"That's quite enough for one night!" Hermione whispered, giving the culprit book a, albeit wasted, stern look.

Placing the books back on the shelf, she noticed that the damaged shelf was not quite as damaged as it was before, placing it on the shoulders of Hogwarts magic, she thought little of it and crept her way out of the library, she swore that when was inevitably made a prefect the amount of students who were caught sneaking around at night would at least triple.

* * *

"Fizzing Whizbees," Hermione whispered harshly at he portrait of the Fat Lady after she'd refused to open.

"I'm sorry my dear, though you look like a Gryffindor, that is not the password." The portrait's jolly sing song-y voice usually made her smile, but in the current situation it was infuriating.

"Not the password… What?"

"In-fact, I don't believe I've even seen you in all my time here! Are you a student? Or are you one of those nasty types I've seen walking around here lately? Mrs. Norris? Mrs. Norris!" The Fat Lady was quick to hysterics and Hermione was increasingly worried that Mrs. Norris was no doubt ready to charge right at her out of the darkness after all the commotion.

"No, shhh - be quiet! Shhhh!" Hermione, in an effort to quell the portrait ran down the stairs towards another fixture of Hogwarts who she knew wouldn't have changed, Dumbledore.

* * *

"Well Ms. … Granger? Was it? I can fix your Time-Turner, but it will take some time I'm afraid. However, while you wait I see no reason why you shouldn't join in with classes! After all, the reason you have this was to have more time to study, was it not?" Dumbledore smiled sweetly behind his glasses at Hermione. "Since you are from Gryffindor, it would be silly to risk you making any unnecessary changes to the time line, no. I see no reason why you should not be placed in.. Slytherin! … And a name… Jean Granger, how does that sound? Perfect isn't it? I know." Before she knew it Hermione was being ushered out of Dumbledore's office. "Everything you need will be waiting for you, and these robes won't do at all… No, no no…" With a flick of his well learned wrist Hermione's red and gold robes turned into the green and silver ones she'd grown to hate so much.

The whole world was spinning around in her head, she hardly remembers gliding down the stairs this time, down to the Slytherin dungeons, she hardly recalls the questions and stares from the other students as she stood , perplexed, in front of her bed. "What will happen to Harry and Ron?" Circled over and over in her thoughts, but then she realised, as she slid into this foreign bed, that to them it wouldn't even seem like she was gone. When Dumbledore fixed her Time-Turner she would appear back in the restricted section, in her own time, however long that would be. No. To her it would be months. Hermione lay, statically between the sheets, as she thought about how long it would be before she was in her own bed again, in the Gryffindor common room or in Hogsmeade with Harry and Ron. "24 years…." She whispered to no one in particular.

Hermione then realised something else, out of the melancholy, how much she would learn while she was here, and that made her current situation seem… Well, not quite so bad.


	2. Feathery Goblets

Hermione had so little sleep last night that she hardly even cared that half the Slytherin table was looking at her, the girl who had arrived during the middle of the night and gone straight to bed. She recognised their expressions, that look which comes only from being in the wealthiest pureblood families, which all the Slytherins from her time wore oh so well. A familiar scent rose up from in front of her, it was comforting to see that Hogwarts was still serving the same breakfast after all these years, the same glistening plates of eggs, sausages, bacon and an oddly matte plate of toast. Glancing up from her food Hermione scanned over the Great Hall, making eye contact with Dumbledore, who gave her a friendly smile and a nod. A gesture which was keenly observed by Narcissa Black, who was sitting a few places up from her, with a group of intolerably arrogant Slytherins. "Right," Hermione thought to herself, "I'll just have to make the most of it. No point wishing into my breakfast to g-" Suddenly she became embarrassingly aware that someone had been sitting next to her for some moments, while she muttered quietly to herself. Glancing to her right Hermione locked with the blue eyes which had narrowed themselves at her soliloquy.

"Are you alright?" A surprisingly soothing voice wrapped itself around her ears and for a moment Hermione heard nothing else.

"Oh um.. Y-Yes, thank you." She had stuttered. Hermione Jean Granger never stutters, least of all in the face of a Slytherin, no matter how polite and … startlingly attractive she was.

"So, what's your name?"

"Uh.. It's um, H.. Um, Jean Granger." Curse that Slytherin for making her stutter. Twice.

"Jean, it's nice to meet you. I'm Narcissa Black." Hermione swallowed hard. Her heart sank in her chest and the gravity of the situation suddenly hit her.

In front of her sat the future Narcissa Malfoy. Sister of Bellatrix Lestrange. Wife of Lucius Malfoy. Mother of Draco Malfoy, the most revolting little boy she'd met in her life. Strange enough Hermione's thoughts wandered from hideous Draco to the girl who sat in front of her now, she was also in her 5th year, and many degrees more attractive than her future son. This girl sat in front of her with blue eyes, blonde hair and a small dimple on one side of her mouth when she smiled. Hermione found herself lingering a little too long on Narcissa's facial details.

Meanwhile, as Hermione had a look of sheer terror across her face, Narcissa sat patiently, waiting for this strange, and rather fetching, girl to snap out of what ever day dream she'd gotten lost into.

"What class do you have next?" Narcissa tried to keep the conversation on track.

"Oh um..," Hermione cleared her throat, refusing to stutter again in front of Narcissa. "Transfiguration, and you?" She tried to inject some much needed dignity into her speech by raising an eyebrow.

"The same." Narcissa smiled friendlily at her, and Hermione found it hard herself to suppress a grin. Perhaps she was wrong about Slytherins, this one seemed friendly enough.

* * *

"Now students we have a new student joining us today, her name is Jean Granger and I'd like you all to make her feel very welcome." Minerva McGonagall chirped to her class, most of whom were preoccupied with the birds on their desks. "Now class," she said, taping on her desk, "for today's class I'd like you to pair up and each of you shall attempt to turn these quails into goblets with the spell 'Fera Verto,' which, as some of you may be aware, we have been studying for the past week. You may begin."

"Want to work together?" Narcissa asked Hermione, she'd followed her from the Great Hall, or, walked with her, rather. Hermione didn't mind it terribly, really. She found Narcissa quite pleasant to be around, she wasn't arrogant like the other Slytherins, seemed well mannered, though, what else could she expect from a member of the Black family.

"Sure, have you used this spell before?" Now the conversation was a little more academic Hermione was entirely within her element.

"No, but I have read about it." Hermione began to think that her time here was perhaps not going to be as bad as she had first thought.

First, Hermione pulled her wand out of her robes, cleared her throat and raised her hands, focusing her gaze on the tiny quail perched on the desk between her and Narcissa, who was watching the ritual intently.

"Fera Verto." She stated confidently. The quail on the desk's feathers grew more grey, and right before Narcissa's eyes the little terrified quail turned into a beautiful silver goblet, with blue sapphires around it's rim. Hermione blushed at the gem stones on her newly transfigured goblet, she'd not been focusing entirely on the feat and instead was thinking about Narcissa Black's beautiful eyes, which were now securely focused on the tip of her wand. She reached out and picked up the oddly warm goblet and tossed it in her hand a few times.

"Not bad Jean, I find your technique…" Narcissa paused, looking down Hermione's body, letting her eyes drift slowly over the ruffles of her robes until they found stocking wrapped legs and then made their way back toward Hermione's face. "Most pleasing." Narcissa gently placed the now feathered goblet back onto the desk, with a very slight smirk on her lips when she saw Hermione blush again.

"Oh.. Uh, thank you. It's your turn." Hermione said quickly, wanting to take the focus of her reddening cheeks.

This time Narcissa picked up her wand, raised an eyebrow in her true Black manor, and flicked her wand. "Fera Verto." The quail this time chirped once or twice as it's legs became incredibly shiny and then before their eyes it turned into a goblet, not unlike Hermione's attempt, though without gems and was also a strange brown colour and appeared to have small patches of scales here and there. Narcissa cleared her throat and looked nervously around the room, it was the first time Hermione had seen her as anything but totally composed.

"That was very close Ms. Black , why don't you get Ms. Granger to help you and try again?" McGonagall trumpeted from the other side of the class room.

Hermione giggled nervously and Narcissa's eyes moved from McGonagall back to Hermione.

"So how shall I approach it this time Ms. Granger?" Narcissa said playfully.

"Well, uh…" Hermione motioned for Narcissa to pick up her wand, when she had Hermione took a gentle hold of her wrist and poised her hands, having to reach around the back of Narcissa so she could reach both of her hands, her face ending up alarmingly close to Narcissa's hair, which smelt like violets, something she had never expected when she'd thought of Draco's mother in the past.. Err.. Future.

"Like this, you see?" Hermione gently waved Narcissa's wand hand, feeling a crackling warmth as Narcissa's wand responded to her own touch, something she'd only read about in books.

"Yes, I believe I have it this time." Narcissa couldn't have been unaware of what was happening with Hermione's touch and her wand, a witch being able to successfully use another witches wand without blowing something up, something she'd only read about in books.

Hermione released her grip on the blonde girl in front of her, suddenly exhaling the breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. Narcissa's eyes were fixed on the quail, she had a score to settle with this bird, and a new friend to impress. She held her wand steadily, squinting at the tawny bird on the desk, breathed in steadily and stated as firmly as Hermione had done, "Fera Verto."

Both girls watched as the quail once again chirped, and began, like last time, to turn remarkably shiny until it appeared to be a bird made from chrome, at which point it morphed and shifted into a goblet, with an ivory and wood spiralled neck. Narcissa made a noise of delight, which set off in Hermione's lower stomach an unfamiliar feeling, as if a wave of sensation had made it's way from her belly button all the way down to her toes where it swelled and crashed like waves before it returned to her stomach.

"Thank you Jean, you are quite talented you know." Narcissa smiled broadly at her again and Hermione found herself staring unintentionally at Narcissa's bottom lip. At which point Hermione came upon a stern realisation, which was only physically signified by a rapid pursing of her lips.


	3. Nondescript Betrayal

"Is something the matter, Hermione?" Narcissa asked when she had seen Hermione's eyes suddenly open wider and a muscle in her cheek flexing over and over.

Barely after Narcissa had finished talking Hermione got up and walked, very quickly, out of the classroom, as class had just ended no one seemed to notice as Hermione's head was obscured first behind the entirely uninteresting heads of her usual class mates and then behind the walls leading out of the Transfiguration classroom.

"No, no, no, no! This cannot happen!" Hermione recited to herself as she pounded the stone floor in frustration with her feet as she walked past all those unfamiliar faces in this incredibly familiar hall. "Perhaps.. Perhaps something got mixed up when I went back in time? Maybe the Time-Turner poisoned me?" Here, Hermione turned a corner and plotted out the longest journey in her head to the next class. "Narcissa Malfoy! Narcissa Black! This can't happen, it would have… disastrous consequences! Disastrous!" Hermione continued to storm down the hallways until she noticed who was ahead of her, all the way down the other end of the corridor, staring, confused and also quite attractive.. No!

"Uhhh .. Oh.." There she was, stuttering again, desperately looking for a way out, a way to escape facing this girl who she could absolutely not have feelings for, no matter how good her hair smelled, or how absolutely glorious her skin was.

A few feet ahead of her something shifting in the wall caught her eye, slowly the sandy bricks folded back revealing a haggard door. Hermione knew exactly what this meant, and ran toward The Room of Requirement, desperately wanting for somewhere to hide from the unreasonably attractive girl who apparently was rather keen on her too. She saw Narcissa with a surprised expression on her face, and who also began moving toward the door, no doubt she knew what had just happened, and was quite impressed by it.

Reaching desperately Hermione found the door handle, closed her slender fingers around it and pushed, with all of her strength, into the dimly lit room. "Thank you, Hogwarts!" She thought to herself, as the door shut with a bang behind her, and the sound of stone sliding across stone was all she could hear for a few seconds, aside from her own pulse pounding in her head.

"Well." Narcissa muttered, a little hurt to see Jean flee from her. They'd only met this morning but Narcissa felt that they were already friends, and maybe a little more, but that would come later.

As soon as the scared, pale, auburn haired girl had wandered into the Slytherin common room Narcissa had felt the urge to make this Jean Granger character her property, as she walked behind the back of the lounge Narcissa was sitting on and made her way up to her bed Narcissa had unashamedly watched her the entire way, feeling a carnivorous desire rise up in her to claim all that was this new arrival, something which she had scarcely felt before. After she'd vanished Narcissa stared into the fireplace and considered her options, in a few years she would marry that awful Lucius at her parents wishes, but until then she saw no harm in pursuing a relationship that she could actually value, for a time at least. She had flirted unashamedly during Transfiguration, and she was sure Jean had noticed, she had blushed a few times and stammered helplessly whenever Narcissa addressed her. All of which she believed to be a good sign that Jean had feelings for her too, even if she wasn't aware of them, though the fact that she had practically ran out of class and into The Room of Requirement for shelter from her suggested that she was in fact, very much aware.

"Perhaps it has only just dawned on her." Narcissa thought to herself, she decided to leave the impressively talented witch in her hiding hole. She would no doubt find her later.

* * *

Peering around the dimly lit room Hermione found herself wading through piles of, well, junk. Heaps and heaps of it, mountains of nothing in particular, crammed into this room which was only about the size of her classrooms. As her eyes adjusted to the somewhat darkness Hermione noticed ahead of her were four great pillars, leading down to something, which she could not see as it was obscured by a pile of nondescript objects. Shambling over, through and around the heaps she got closer to the structure and realised, with great dissatisfaction, that even Hogwarts knew what she was secretly thinking, though she would not have admitted it to herself at that time. In front of her stood, with it's four posts reaching high above her head and with cloth draped between them, was a bed, a huge bed at that, large enough for at least three people. Hermione sighed in frustration, The Room of Requirement had given her a bed, and this room doesn't open for just anyone, you have to really _need_ it. Was that what she needed? To sleep with Narcissa? Or maybe just to fondle her a little… and kiss her neck… hair…

"No!" Hermione stopped herself mid-thought, though she knew it continued on in the back of her mind. Taking a seat on the bed she noted that it was impeccably comfortable. "I shall approach this rationally," she said, putting on the most scholarly voice she could muster while thoughts of Narcissa writhing under her still played out somewhere in her mind, "surely I cannot _love_ this girl, after only sitting in one class with her. Surely," she continued, "it was just a girlish crush, Narcissa is… or, was, after all, quite an attractive girl. I'm sure," she tried to convince herself, "that lots of girls have crushes on that gorgeous Slytherin, with her perfectly shaped mouth and blue eyes. I'm sure its happened many times. Many!" Hermione started pacing about in what little space there was, repeating the same rationalising mantra over and over again. "I am Hermione Jean Granger and I shall not be seduced by this future Malfoy, not today!" Her Gryffindor courage shimmered boldly through her surface, though it was falsely mustered.

As much as she tried to shake the images from her mind of Narcissa Black pressed firmly up against the wall, with her limbs splayed, moaning in ecstasy seemed to bubble it's way to the surface of her mind just as she turned to leave. "It happens to everyone, I'm sure it will go away soon. You can't be lusting after Mrs. Malfoy, no matter how good she looks in her robes," Hermione firmly stated to herself. "… or out of them." An uncontrolled mutiny of a thought burst forward and as much as she wished that she'd stuffed it back in, instead, she let it hang there, in her mind, delivering to her the most sensational images of Narcissa.

"Oh, Hermione…" She whispered aloud, "what are you getting yourself into?"


	4. Watching Quidditch

Hermione felt strange to be in this position, it was so familiar and at the same time so… not. Standing amongst a crowd of cheering Slytherins she couldn't help missing her home, and her friends. It was not a warm day, no, quite the opposite really, freezing wind, no clouds and a Quidditch match which needed spectators. Not that Hermione had decided suddenly to support Slytherin in an attempt to catch Narcissa's attention, though she found herself wanting Narcissa's gaze to rest only on her, for Narcissa to devour her with her eyes, to understand everything she felt with a single glance. At the same time however, she avoided Narcissa whenever she could, she'd found the idea, over the past week, of talking to her face to face as freely as she did that first day completely mortifying. So why then was Hermione standing amongst a crowd of cheering Slytherins in the freezing wind? Narcissa, of course. While Hermione was petrified to talk to her again she could hardly stand not to be around the young witch, her heart was telling her two different things, to run or stay, and she seemed to want both simultaneously, in equal desperation.

She could feel _that_ gaze, she'd known it all week. Narcissa was no doubt staring at her from her position on the other side of the Slytherin benches. "Damn it, Hermione, just look at her and smile. Go on, now, she's looking at you!" Her mind and body had apparently separated somewhere, as she stood, entirely still in the wind which blew her wavy hair in all directions, her feet did not budge and her lips most certainly did not smile. It was so cold she was scarcely sure that she still could. "Ugh! Hermione Jean Granger, you turn and look at Narcissa right no-… oh, maybe not.. If I look at her, she'll come over, and then what am I supposed to do?" Hermione's head had been spinning and backtracking like this all week, she'd also hoped that watching a Quidditch match would clear her up, make her think better. It had just made things worse.

Politely, as always, standing on her side of the bench Narcissa's eyes were fixed on Jean, who seemed to be engaged in some deep mental struggle, she had known the girl for a little over a week and every time they had spoken Jean had drifted off into an internal dialogue, leaving Narcissa waiting for the life, and usually fear, to return to her eyes. Narcissa had thought about her a lot recently, ever since Transfiguration Jean seemed to be the only clear thought in her mind, she was having trouble focusing on school work, not that it mattered, she was smart enough to get by. "Certainly not as clever as Jean though," Narcissa suddenly whispered to herself, it felt good to say her name, she liked the way it flowed from her mouth. "Jean Granger." She said again, a little louder this time.

The Slytherin seeker was flying alarmingly close to the benches, chasing an unseen object, as he flew overhead the entire Slytherin crowd ducked and gasped in amazement and fright, when he had flown off the students looks amongst themselves with grins on their faces, after the display of Slytherin 'finesse,' and for a brief second Hermione looked at Narcissa, so fast that she was hardly sure she'd looked at Narcissa at all.

"Damn!" Hermione scolded herself for being so apprehensive. "Ok Hermione, you want to talk to Narcissa, right? Right. So you'll need to look at her sometime, you might as well start now." Hermione calmly recited within her read. Breathing deeply Hermione looked first at the ground, at the weathered floor boards holding her, and the rest of Slytherin, up. Getting lost in the nuances of colour for a moment her mind, for the first time in a week, steadied, her thoughts were of Narcissa, but only of her, no consequences, no worry, just simply the thought _of_ her. She clenched her fists briefly, closed her eyes for a split second (to others it would have appeared as a blink) and turned her head, to find Narcissa in the crowd.

Hermione's eyes locked, and stayed this time, with Narcissa's instantly, Hermione's breath hitched in her throat at the sudden surge of adrenaline pulsing from the pit of her stomach. Her breathing became deeper and slower as she tried to control the whirling in her belly, Hermione could feel her pulse in places she never knew she could feel a pulse from, especially beating as hard as hers was in that moment. Narcissa, hardly shifting, stood with her shoulders slanted slightly and her chest upfront and straight, just like she was taught. Her Slytherin cardigan, her shirt too, was unbuttoned to just the right height that from where she stood Hermione could see the smallest hint of a supple breast, she could see where the skin grew softer and raised slightly, preparing for the implantation of a, presumably breathtaking Hermione thought to herself, areola. She doubted very much that Narcissa was wearing a bra, the way the harsh grey fabric clung to her skin. Hermione's eyes drifted lower, gliding slowly over Narcissa's stomach, imagining freely what her body looked like under all those _damn_ clothes. She sighed and bit her lip gently with her teeth, as her eyes melted lower and lower over Narcissa's body, she was frustrated to see her legs were obscured behind the crowd of students, who were by now incredibly anxious for the end of the match, the only way they would win now is if the Slytherin seeker caught the Snitch. Another strong gust of wind and Narcissa's hair lulled behind her head in the breeze, stray blonde hairs travelled across her face quickly, first one way, and then the other. By now Hermione had been holding Narcissa's gaze for what felt like at least ten minutes, but was in fact almost exactly 42 seconds, she tried so hard to hold onto it, Narcissa was peering deep into her being, she told Narcissa everything, with her eyes, that she had ever wanted to say, she wondered if Narcissa could hear her speaking inside her head because her face began to shift slowly until she was smiling a smouldering smile which made Hermione weak in the knees.

* * *

She had been trying all week to catch Jean Granger's attention, she'd stayed up late at night, hoping to catch Hermione in the common room returning from the library. Six nights she had waited up, with little success, occasionally she would get a smile when Jean walked, incredibly quickly, up to her bed. While she waited Narcissa often played out in her head what she hoped would happen - Jean would enter the common room, see her and then, after a _very_ small conversation, would sit down next to her, in the light of the fire, and permit to be kissed, thoroughly. Narcissa was not alarmed at her sudden attraction to the strange dark eyed girl who'd fallen, though unfortunately not _literally_, into her lap.

Regardless, here she was now, staring right into Jean's eyes, she didn't care if anyone saw her, looking at Jean, she was Narcissa Black and she could look at whoever she wanted, and then perhaps sleep with whoever she wanted. Jean looked slightly tense, Narcissa thought, she looked as if she was practising enormous physical restraint not to blush. Narcissa became enthralled with Jean's gaze, she felt butterflies swirling around in her stomach and her tongue, within her mouth, began lightly caressing her teeth, as if it had been given an order to lick, which made Narcissa smirk a little more. She flexed her toes in her shoes as she felt a familiar sensation, one she had felt many times since meeting Jean, ripple out from between her legs and radiate to every nerve in repeating pulses, making it increasingly difficult for her to breath deep enough. Jean's eyes, even from this distance, were dark. Though, the fairness of her skin contrasted with them, and almost gave her a glow. Her soft, pink lips seemed to emerge seamlessly out of her white creamy skin. A slight gust of wind pushed Jean's hair back, revealing her slender neck at which point Narcissa's mind was flooded with thoughts of sinking her teeth into that soft skin, marking it and claiming Jean for herself. At this thought Narcissa invariably smiled, which Jean saw and her face lit up a little more.

* * *

Again tonight Narcissa sat in the common room, waiting for Jean to return from where ever she'd gone, Narcissa lost track of her after the Quidditch match, she seemed to have a knack for disappearing into crowds. Nevertheless, she sat by the fire, like she did every night, hoping for Jean to return and then they could talk. Getting lost in the endless lapping of the fire Narcissa was disturbed by an owl tapping on the window, confused, she got up and let the creature in. It strutted around on the floor for a time, eyeing Narcissa as if it was expecting a reward.

"Well?" Narcissa questioned, putting her hands on her hips in true Black fashion. The small bird dropped a note from its beak, chirped in anger and flew back out of the window. "Owls these days.." She said as she picked up the note off the cold stone floor and unravelled it.

_Narcissa,_

_Meet me in the library, now._

_The Restricted Section._

_Watch out for prefects._

_Jean._


	5. Collateral Damage

She couldn't see anything. Her eyes sifted desperately through the suffocation of blackness before her, a glimmer here and a flicker there. Was that a prefect? Was it Jean? These small flecks of light every now and again threw Narcissa who was struggling desperately through the darkness of the restricted section of the library. Her hands were outstretched, waiting to feel something, anything, instead of this pool of blackness she had been plunged into after moving silently through the door from the library. Another flicker. She stepped ever so cautiously across the hard floor, she had taken off her shoes and her the bottom of her stocking clad feed slid across the wood, almost silently. Almost. Her hand grazed a shelf, or at least, what Narcissa thought was a shelf, she hoped it was, feeling around in her dark murky pool for 10 minutes and still no sign of Jean. 'Has she left?' Narcissa thought, 'Have I taken too long?' Her hands slid along the horizontal plane of wood, she could feel the spines of books delicately kissing her finger tips as she moved along the bookcase, it would seem that someone had intentionally made this section of the library labyrinthine. Another flicker, slightly brighter this time, she must be going in the right direction. The grain of the old bookshelves grated lightly against her hands, every now and again there would be a break in the shelving, where one bookcase ended and another began, coming like a metronome, she had to be getting close by now. Another flicker, though, this time she could perhaps call it a flash, the floor and shelves around her became, for a very brief moment, illuminated in a clean blue light. She could see ahead of her, behind a few more corners, the source of the flickers and specs of light.

She slid her hand around the final corner of a bookcase, and saw, sitting in the middle of the aisle with a glowing, pulsing wand, Jean. She was leaning against a shelf, with her eyes closed and her head thrown back, her arms were crossed across her stomach and her legs were bent beneath her. Narcissa quietly revelled in this sight for a moment, resting her eyes on the small figure bundled on the floor. She felt, in the pit of her stomach, an urge bubble up, fizzing and swirling through her whole body, to smile. A rather small and sultry smirk spread across her face as she took in the sight of the girl in front of her, with her hair falling down her shoulders and her _very nice_ chest rising and falling with every steady breath. 'She's remarkably calm,' Narcissa thought, perplexed at how still this being was, in contrast to every other time she had spoken with the nervous blushing witch, how refreshing it was to see her now, as she actually was, she was so very beautiful. Her breath quickened and a tight feeling across her abdomen called her attention back to the present, here she was standing in the restricted section of the library in the middle of the night, looking at Jean Granger, who had asked her to come and she had, as of yet, done nothing.

* * *

In this most familiar aisle Hermione Granger sunk slowly to the floor, she had sent Narcissa a note at least an hour ago, but she couldn't be sure, her mind was running wild and only a few seconds could seem like minutes. She knew why she had asked Narcissa to meet her, after the Quidditch match she could hardly restrain herself, but _why_ wasn't the issue, it was how. She had no idea how to go about it, whatever it was that she wanted. She knew she wanted to be close to her, but did she want to kiss her? Did she want to caress her and feel the heat of her skin? 'Who knows,' she thought, frustrated at not having an answer. Hermione looked around at the bookcases, remembering her life before she had broken her Time-Turner, before all of… _this. _'This,' she whispered, imagining what was about to take place, Narcissa would arrive any second now, and then what? She suddenly became nervous, feeling her hands sweat and her mouth become dry, biting nervously on the inside of her lip. 'It's alright Hermione, if she comes, it's because she wants the same thing as you, and if she doesn't come, she just doesn't come. No big deal.' Hermione's heart sunk like a stone in her chest, grinding on her stomach, as the thought crossed her mind of Narcissa not showing up, it had taken her hours to muster the courage to write the damn letter, to sneak in here without being caught and then to convince herself to stay, if Narcissa didn't show up then… Hermione sighed, worried as she was, deep down she knew that Narcissa was going to show. Trying to calm her nerves Hermione leaned her head back against a shelf, wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, listening only to the sound of her own breathing, her wand, which she held in one of her hands, pulsed every now and again as her '_Lumos' _sustained itself. Narcissa would be here soon, she had to be.

* * *

Narcissa pursed her lips gently, unable to restrain herself and walked, _silently_, over to Jean, moving slowly so she didn't disturb the air, or rouse the brunette in front of her. She stopped, with her feet inches away from Jean's, flexing her toes in delight at the proximity. She slowly lowered herself down by bending her knees, her strong calves hardly quivering at the task. Suddenly, she found herself inches away from Jean's face, with her eyes still closed and breathing softly, Narcissa began to wonder if she had fallen asleep while waiting for her. Taking advantage of her position she poured closely over Jean's features, her perfect skin seemed to glow in the light of her own wand. She was only vaguely aware of her own hand reaching out to touch the cheek in front of her, she watched it move in slowly, and before it made contact noted the radiating warmth she felt from the girl. As her palm came into contact with Jean's _beautiful_ face Narcissa felt the most pleasant of sensations in between her legs, as if her connection with Jean had completed a circuit which was now electrifying her from the inside, out.

Suddenly, Hermione felt something soft and warm graze her cheek, her eyes split open instantly to find Narcissa Black's blue eyes staring, first, intently at her lips and then after a brief moment, locked with her own, she was so close Hermione could smell her perfume, how had she not noticed her arrival before, she had been too busy worrying whether Narcissa would show up when she had actually been sitting right in front of her. Hermione felt herself relax at the touch and her eyes, too. She was not nervous this time, perhaps the overarching wave of relief coursing through her had overridden her usually vehement reactions to Narcissa's presence. After a short time Hermione's only instinct was to raise herself off the floor, a move which Narcissa followed almost instantly, now the two were standing in the restricted section, not entirely sure what to do next. Hermione searched Narcissa's eyes for the answer, she began to smile slightly, showing off her signature sultry look, one that Hermione had, gladly, seen many times. Narcissa's gaze shifted, from one eye to the other and back again, as if planning her next move very carefully. Hermione stood frozen in place, overwhelmed by the sensation that was coursing through her body, a feeling which she had never felt so intensely in her whole life. And then, much to her own surprise, Narcissa took a very confident step forward, so that now they were _literally _only inches away, she could even feel her warm breath cascading down and across her chest, Narcissa's warmth, caressing her.

She leaned in, tentatively at first, looking into Jean's eyes for approval, when she found it she quickly moved towards her, so that their lips were only millimetres apart, she deliberately breathed out, essentially kissing Jean with her own breath, making the auburn haired girl shiver beneath her, by now Jean's back was against the bookcase with which she'd become so familiar, Narcissa moved her arms so that one was either side of Jean's shoulders, gripping the shelves. Jean gasped as full, soft, _warm_ lips were pressed onto her own, at this sensation she dropped her wand and the two young witches were plunged into darkness.

Narcissa pulled back and Hermione whimpered quietly, unable to see the girl in front of her, but she could still hear her panting, she felt her own arm shift as it wrapped around the delicate waist of the future Mrs. Malfoy, a fact, at this point in time, she didn't at all care about. She felt, across her stomach and chest a sudden _thicker_ contact, as Narcissa's body came into contact with her own, pushing her harder against the bookcase, the mixture of pleasure and discomfort from the hard shelf behind her and Narcissa Black pinning her to it made Hermione moan into the blackness and she heard the most _sensuous _chuckle come from Narcissa's lips. She leaned forward, only slightly, and met Narcissa's lips again, this time with more intensity. She could feel so much more detail than she had anticipated would exist after studying intently Narcissa's lips whenever she had the chance, she could hardly restrain her arms from squeezing the blonde girl into her more, wanting more contact, _more._ Narcissa tilted her head to the side and, very gently, presented her soft pink tongue to Hermione's lips, caressing and teasing until Hermione parted her lips slightly, allowing Narcissa to enter. She was _pleasantly_ surprised, then, to feel Narcissa's teeth grating and lightly pinching her bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth, and sucking on it. Hermione could _taste_ her. She could actually _taste_ Narcissa Black in her own mouth, and she tasted so distinctly and so indescribably but at the same time she tasted so much like she had expected Narcissa Black to taste. Hermione cautiously offered her tongue to Narcissa's, who accepted it instantly and dragged her teeth over it, slowly. Which made Hermione moan into her mouth, as her hands glided up Narcissa's back and tangled themselves in the blonde hair which she had grown so achingly familiar with. A desire flowed through both of their bodies, the overwhelming urge to devour, to possess, the carnivorous want to consume the other.

Narcissa continued her massaging of Jean's lips with her own, their tongues finding great pleasure in their new _friendship_. Jean's hands began to wander over Narcissa's body, gliding up her back, around her shoulders, cradling her head and skimming down her front where she slid her hand firmly over Narcissa's breast, taking extra care to push down with her fingers on a hard bead, sending waves of absolute pleasure through Narcissa, who moaned into Jean's mouth who continued the touch, forming circles around the apparently _incredibly_ sensitive area. Narcissa writhed under the touch, pushing herself harder against Jean's hand, her hands were clenched around a shelf either side of Jean's shoulders, and when she pushed at the exact right moment Narcissa let out a much louder moan as her long nails scraped through the wood of the shelf, taking chunks with them as she squeezed even harder.

Hermione smirked to herself, 'so that's where that came from…' she thought. Had she know that the _collateral_ damage had been caused in such agreeable circumstances she certainly would not have been quite so mad, perhaps not even mad at all. Hundreds of thoughts rushed suddenly into Hermione's head, all occurring in a brief second. What would this change in the future? Is it dangerous to be this attached to the wife of a future Death Eater, sister of a future maniac? Would Narcissa hunt her down when she returned to her own time, hunt her down for what she did… All of these thoughts were forced out of Hermione's head as Narcissa dragged her teeth, fairly hard this time, over Hermione's bottom lip, which made her moan and want for control, she found her hands buried in Narcissa's hair and slid them down to her shoulders where she wrapped her fingers around the delicate form she found there and pushed, until it was Narcissa's back, this time, which was pressed against the opposite set of bookshelves. Reaching down until she felt the familiar shape of a wand, though not her own, she took hold of it and raised it up so it was just under their chins, and whispered quietly, 'Lumos.' At first the light produced by Hermione using Narcissa's wand was especially dim, almost making everything seem darker than before, but she felt the familiar humming she had felt in Transfiguration and seamlessly the dim ball of light shifted until it was just as bright as Hermione's had been, though this Lumos was a golden yellow, rather than the usual cold white.

Narcissa's eyes fell for a moment to her own wand in the hand of Jean Granger, where it had produced a golden Lumos, a highly impressive feat indeed. Back up her eyes drifted until they met once more with Jean's, whose pupils were dilated, her cheeks flushed and her lips were slightly swollen and pink. She had never seen something so amazingly beautiful in her whole life. For a moment she found it hard to breathe, this girl standing in front of her had, just now, kissed her like she'd always longed to be kissed, and awoken a feeling between her legs which she was scarcely sure she had felt this intensely in all her life. Jean was panting, and staring at her lips, completely at ease with the situation which made Narcissa smile, she could really see herself with this girl. She could even love her. 'Fairly easily.' she thought. She raised her hands from by her sides and placed them in the small of Jean's back, pulling her closer and feeling the now familiar feeling of pleasure and want bubble up from her core.


	6. The Flower Duet

She could hardly stand it. It wouldn't be long now, just one more class. One. More. Class. Hermione clenched her teeth and walked behind Narcissa, breathing in a delicious perfume she had grown to crave over the past few weeks. Suddenly a rush of memory filled her head, this sweet scent was caressing her mind and forcing her to recall all of her and Narcissa's most _intimate _of moments, she remembered the thick heat, the closeness, she remembered, and treasured, everything about the blonde girl, _her blonde_, walking in front of her into the Herbology greenhouse. Hermione never liked the humidity in here, the air was heavy with the smell of dampness and soil, the heat was always stifling, no matter how cool it was outside. She silently followed behind Narcissa, letting her eyes rest on the slow rhythm of hips, swaying gently in front of her, rousing the desire to reach out and… Hermione cleared her throat and slid into the chair beside Narcissa, who glanced briefly into her eyes and smirked knowingly at her. 'One. More. Class.' She repeated again to herself.

"Today class," Professor Sprout chimed, "you will be attempting to extract nectar from a Fanged Geranium, which is no easy task and I should think that some of you will be unsuccessful. You may not harm the plant, physically or otherwise, and you may use any spell you deem appropriate. Begin when ready and good luck!"

Even after all those years of teaching at Hogwarts Professor Sprout was still as bright as ever, the woman truly loved her plants, Hermione thought, with her head leaning against her propped up hand. Between the two, on the desk, in an old, terracotta pot sat a rather revolting little form, it was round and yellow-ish and covered in what looked like scales with two little golden leaves on top. Outside of Herbology no one would have thought it to be a flower. Narcissa looked down at the tiny thing, half buried in dirt, and furrowed her brow. Hermione was amazed at the level of composure she had, given that Hermione was struggling to focus on anything but the end of class.

Narcissa reached out and wrapped her slender fingers around the pot, lifting it up close to her face where she inspected the organism more closely, she saw it shift slightly, as if stretching a hidden limb, and placed it back down on the table. An expression of confidence came across her face and Hermione recognised, instantly, the Narcissa Malfoy from her time. She felt betrayed, not by the girl sitting in front of her inspecting the strange ball of scales and it's pot of dirt, but by time. If only she had been born sooner, if only she could stay here with Narcissa and grow up with her. 'Golly,' she thought, 'what a privilege that would be.' She looked quietly over the blonde sitting next to her, the past weeks had been truly_ wonderful_. 'Well, I shall just have to make the most of it while I still can… Hopefully Dumbledore is having trouble fixing that Time-Turner.' Hermione jerked herself out of her inner monologue and returned her focus on the task at hand, which Narcissa seemed to be approaching very methodically.

"What are you thinking?" Hermione asked brightly, referring to the task at hand.

"Well, I think you know the answer to that." Replied Narcissa, a smirk spreading itself across her lips.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush with heat at the comment, this Slytherin seemed to have an uncanny knack for making her blush, even after all those weeks. Hermione giggled as Narcissa turned from her, returning her gaze to the potted bulb on the table.

Removing her wand from her robes Narcissa poised her hands very precisely, raised her chin and in one smooth flick of her wand and cast _Herbivicus_ into the pot. After a few seconds of seeming nothingness the yellow, scaly blob began to shift and squirm in it's gritty surrounds. Slowly the two girls watched, slightly perplexed, as the ball unfolded into a plant, initially growing stems and leaves and then when they were fully formed purple flowers sprouted all over it, followed by a full set of teeth.

"Ugly little thing isn't it?" Narcissa remarked, her Black blood clearly showing.

"Watch out for your fingers, I wouldn't want them hurt." Hermione said, close to the other witch's ear, which caused her to let out a throaty chuckle that sent waves through Hermione's body.

Narcissa very slowly tried to dip her wand into the centre of one of the flowers attached to the Fanged Geranium, hoping that it wouldn't notice and then her and Jean could leave class early. That's all she could think about today, and every other day, all she wanted to do was to take Jean back to her bed claim her again, run her hands over every patch of skin she could find, kiss her thoroughly and then when she was done she should like to do it over again. The only thing which stood in her way was, of course, this hideous flower on the table. Mocking her. She narrowed her eyes at it, and it snapped at her wand.

"You insolent little sh-…" Narcissa muttered at it. "You're lucky we aren't allowed to use harmful spells," here she lowered her voice, "…otherwise I'd have cast Incendio on you as soon as you emerged from your horrid little bulb. Now, give me some nectar, or I don't know what I'll do with you."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at Narcissa's attempts at being threatening, she very much enjoyed entertaining the thought of a sadistic streak through _her _Slytherin. 'One more class…' she repeated again.

Narcissa was still eyeing up the little flowery plant, trying to find a point of weakness. She'd even tried to turn the pot around, so the Geranium was facing the opposite direction, but it had just uprooted itself and turned around, gnashing it's fangs at her again. 'Alright,' Narcissa thought, 'I'll think about this rationally… What do plants like…?' She was finding it hard to think clearly while Hermione's warm thigh was pressed against her own, she knew what was under that skirt, and was growing increasingly frustrated with this floral barricade.

'She never has been delicate,' Hermione thought, with a smile spread across her lips after witnessing the frustration Narcissa was going through at the tendrils of this little plant. At this thought a quiet giggle escaped Hermione's lips which, once Narcissa heard it, returned moments of ecstasy to her thoughts, she recalled kissing Jean, holding her against the wall with her own body and forcing all her gilded nerves to erupt in a single moment, the moments after when all Jean could do was rest her head on her shoulder with staggered breathing, her fingers digging little pits into Narcissa's back. These were the moments she found herself revisiting in idleness, when at night Jean had gone back to her own room and Narcissa lay in the thick blackness sifting through the blurs of the day, constructing some sense from them. It all seemed so temporary, she knew she was arranged to marry _Lucius_, that horrible boy, she didn't have the heart to tell Jean though, she couldn't bear to hurt her. At least, in an emotional sense. Here, Narcissa smirked again and returned her focus to the impatient Geranium on the wooden table.

"Do you mind if I tried something?" Hermione asked nonchalantly.

"Of course, I'm having no luck." Narcissa replied, as she pushed the plant toward Jean.

Hermione picked up her wand and looked sternly at the gnashing plant in front of her. She breathed in deeply, and exhaled, preparing herself to cast.

"Lumos Solem."

Narcissa was expecting a huge beam of light to erupt from Jean's wand when she heard her enunciate that spell, but was amazed to see that Jean had, in fact, conjured a small ball of light, no bigger than a regular Lumos, but as bright as the sun. She looked for a moment at the tip of Jean's wand, the bright light drilled an undulating black disc into her vision. Here, she looked from the tip of Jean's wand to Jean's face, marvelling first at her control over such a volatile spell and then she let her eyes graze over Jean's features, paying particular attention to the exact shape of her lips, where they met and grew apart from each other. Overall, Narcissa was humbled by the effortlessness of Jean's Lumos Solem, it was something she had only read about in books.

Under the conjured sun the Fanged Geranium spread it's petals and leaves until they were all exposed to the radiating light, and then stilled. Narcissa first inspected the plant, to make sure it was perfectly still and when she found it was she moved in closer to Jean, sliding her wand through the air towards the Geranium, hoping this time to get some nectar. Closer. Slower. Closer… Just as her wand was about to make contact with a petal the Geranium suddenly snapped out of its solar paralysis and lunged after her hand, sinking it's teeth into her and gouging a path back out. Narcissa let out a cry of pain and clutched her wound with her free hand, her wand hitting the hard floor and bounding hollowly.

"Fucking plant! Ugh!" Narcissa shouted, blood dripping between her fingers.

Hermione dropped her wand out of shock, where it too hit the floor. She leaned down between the chair and the desk to pick it up but could feel only Narcissa's wand. That would have to do, from down here even she could see blood drops on the ground.

"Narcissa, hold still, take your hand away." Hermione reached out and gently wrapped her fingers around Narcissa's wounded hand, her hands being streaked with the warm crimson liquid. Hermione looked at the wound and furrowed her brow, it was expelling blood out of Narcissa's body in pulses.

"Episkey." A white orb flowed from the tip of Narcissa's wand, into her hand. Hermione felt in her hand a familiar, yet misplaced, sensation. She felt it rise from her fingers, to her wrist, to her arm and so on until it nestled itself in the pit of her stomach where it grew into something extraordinary, making her squirm in her seat, cross her legs and clench her toes so hard that she was sure she would burst through her shoes. Her breath came in staggers, the feeling in her abdomen grew until she couldn't restrain it any more, she bit hard into her bottom lip to stifle a moan. Hermione's knuckles went white as she squeezed Narcissa's wand, which was still producing an Episkey. Reds and greens flashed in front of her eyes, though they were still open, she locked eyes which pushed her over the edge, though she wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Her breathing deepened and her grip on Narcissa's wand loosened.

"Um.." She smiled at Narcissa, who smiled back knowingly.

* * *

Jean had picked up her wand, was it by accident? Surely by accident. Narcissa's hand was bleeding terribly. Jean took hold of her hand and cradled it gently between a web of her own fingers, disregarding the blood which now streamed over them. She spoke the word softly, as if harsh articulation would reverse the effects of the spell. _Episkey._ It echoed in Narcissa's ears, like a thick liquid, thick like honey, she felt it oozing down her body, leaving goose bumps in it's wake. It pooled between her legs as hot as the baths she would enjoy at home. It swirled in churned, sending waves of pleasure through her body. 'This is not how a normal Episkey usually works.' Narcissa thought between pulses. She felt, simultaneously, her hand mending itself but more importantly she felt herself shaking, she felt so hot and all she could think of was Jean, of her eyes in the sun, the way her hair smelled, the shape of her mouth… Her eyes involuntarily shut and her two now perfectly healthy, thought a little bloody, hands clenched into fists. To her left she heard Jean stifle a moan and knew the _feeling_ was mutual. She turned her head and found Jean's eyes already on hers, her pupils were dilated.

"Um..." She heard from her left, and smirked at Jean.


	7. Forget to Remember

'I bet he's called me here because he's having trouble fixing the Time-Turner, that's it!' Hermione thought to herself as she drifted down the tawny corridors towards Dumbledore's office. 'I hope he's having trouble fixing it…' Hermione had been dreading this moment, she knew Dumbledore would have fixed her Time-Turner, it had to happen sooner or later. She'd been thinking about it, or rather, the thought of being sent home would bubble itself to the surface of her mind whenever she found herself in idleness. _Home_. Hermione sighed deeply, feeling her heart sink and rest atop her stomach, oscillating on the flesh it found there until she felt sick. 'Please…' she whispered to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office, '…please just let me stay.' She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the gentle touch of each strand as she began to pace back and forth before the statue. She cursed, then, for being born too late, for Narcissa being born too early. Her shoes produced muted taps as she paced. They were meant to be together, she knew it, she knew it as soon as she had let her eyes rest on the gilded blonde hair of Draco's would-be mother. She knew it as soon as her cheeks flushed with heat and Narcissa had smirked. Hermione clenched her jaw and stood still, her arms folded tightly across her chest as it rose and fell sharply with each frustrated breath. 'Narcissa…' she sighed. 'What will happen to Narcissa?' She thought, her eyes becoming quickly glossy with tears. She could hardly bear the thought of Narcissa being without her, of Narcissa marrying Lucius. Here, the thought of Narcissa being touched by anyone else revolted her, it made her eyes narrow and her heart quicken. She had disliked Lucius before, but now she _hated_ him. Hated him for the enormous privilege of belonging to Narcissa Black. "_Scum._" She said aloud. Hermione urged her memory not to fail her as she recalled all of Narcissa, every breath and every smile. If she could remember her, then she would never be truly gone. She vowed to remember her every day, so that she would never forget, she would deny her memory the chance to make all her moments with Narcissa fuzzy, blurred at the edges, and sometimes missed altogether. But what kind of life would she return to, she hadn't met Narcissa before she came here, perhaps she'd forgotten all about her in time. This thought made Hermione lament, a soft cry escaped her lips as she recalled again the thought of Narcissa forgetting about her. _Forgetting._ She suddenly felt anxious, she felt like being sick. Hermione began to breathe deeply, trying to think about something else, _anything _else. Her heart clenched inside her chest as she heard behind her the now sickening sound of stone scraping across stone, as the entrance to Dumbledore's office opened. 'Fuck…' she whispered.

* * *

"Yes Headmaster, that is good news." Hermione had always been a convincing liar.

"I trust you've made plenty of friends and since you've been using an alias I shouldn't think it necessary to use a memory charm on them, but if you would like me to, then it can be arranged." Dumbledore said, with remarkable cheer.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek lightly to stop her chin from quivering with sorrow at the thought of Narcissa's memory of her being forcibly removed. She thought for a moment at what it would be like, to have one's memory erased. She remembered Gilderoy Lockhart's mumblings, his empty expression. At least he was happy, or, he looked happy. She couldn't bear the thought any longer, and spat out in finality: "No, Headmaster, that won't be necessary."

"Very well." He smiled at her over his half-moon glasses. "You have until the end of the day to say your goodbyes and finish your classes, meet me back here at 6pm sharp."

"Yes, Headmaster."

* * *

It had all been so brief, here she was again, standing in front of the gargoyle statue guarding Dumbledore's office hardly feeling as if she'd spoken to him at all. The words seem to just flow out of her with no mind as to what she was actually saying. At any point she could have asked to stay longer, to finish up her classes for the semester, she could say. Instead, she said nothing, and agreed to be sent back to her own time tonight, before dinner. 'It's not enough time,' she repeated again and again to herself, '…how can I explain to Narcissa? What do I explain to Narcissa…' She had thought of no excuse for leaving so suddenly after all her time in the past, she had been too preoccupied with Narcissa and had never had thoughts about her own leaving which didn't end with '_later.' _Hermione began, internally, to find reasons for her pending departure as she strode urgently down the corridors toward the Slytherin common room. She wouldn't go to her classes today, she couldn't face it. She walked, slower now, down all the familiar spaces she'd walked down many times before, with Narcissa and without her. _Without Narcissa._ She stopped. She looked down at the floor. She looked at her shoes and suddenly she felt her heart break. Everything began to spin, she forgot where she was, sounds around her muffled and her breath, in and out, was the only clear thing she could hear - and it filled her ears. Hermione walked as if floating, absent mindedly making her way to the Slytherin common room. There was a pain in her chest, not as painful as she had expected, but it was persistent, it swam in her, pulsed in her, she felt it both paralyse her and drive her forward at once. She didn't cry, she was too separated in body to do anything of the sort, her legs told her to walk, her ears didn't work, her eyes couldn't focus as she felt them twitch in their sockets and her head was drowning in thoughts of Narcissa. Hermione looked down at her feet, and seconds later when she looked back up, she was standing in front of her bed. She sighed deeply, releasing the breath she didn't realise she had been holding.

* * *

As was their usual routine for Friday nights, Narcissa and Jean would sneak into the restricted section of the library. At least, that was their usual routine. Narcissa Black had snuck, alone tonight, into the restricted section to wait for Jean. She hadn't been at any classes and she had missed dinner. Narcissa went looking for her, but could find nothing, she wasn't in bed and her clothes and books were still strewn about the room - so she was still on Hogwarts grounds somewhere. She lowered herself now, to sit on the hard wooden floor, waiting patiently for Jean to arrive. Only this morning they had snuck into the prefects bathroom and had a bath together - and Jean had seemed her usual self then. 'I'll just wait,' Narcissa thought, 'if she was busy she would have certainly said something.' Here, she rested her head against a shelf and listened to the soft creak of a door being opened somewhere in the library. She waited quietly, but the footsteps which emerged from the door faded back into silence, it hadn't been Jean. Narcissa brushed some lint off her stockings and nibbled on her lower lip gently, letting her eyes slip closed.

* * *

Narcissa awoke with a jerk. The resting of her eyes had turned into a slumber, she had no idea what time it was, it must have been early though, as blue-grey light streamed through the windows of the library, washing everything into a sullen hue. She placed her hands on the cold floor and spread her fingers out, stretching her legs and slowly remembering why she was here. 'Where is Jean?' Narcissa managed to think through the blear of sleep. She made her way out of the library and back up to the common room, all the prefects who were on patrol had gone to bed and the corridors lay dormant. The common room itself seemed timeless to her, the fire was always burning and the darkness pervaded all hours of the day and night, she often wondered why the Slytherin students were put into a dungeon, she supposed that most of them liked it that way, Lucius certainly did. She looked about the common room, searching for any sign of Jean, so far - nothing. Narcissa began to worry about Jean's whereabouts, and her safety. Over the past few months she had grown very protective of Jean, the mystery girl who had appeared in Slytherin over night, she always wanted to be with her. She wanted to be with her, always. Narcissa knew her family would never understand, they could never accept her marrying anyone, regardless of gender, other than Lucius. Here, she vowed never to love him as her legs pushed her up the stairs to the dormitory, closer to Jean's bed. No, he would never have her heart, it was no longer hers to give regardless. She looked over Jean's things, nothing seemed disturbed, her books remained, her robes were still in her trunk, her bed hadn't been made since the last time the two of them messed it up. Her eyes fell now to a tight wad of paper, folded too many times, resting on Jean's pillow. First, she furrowed her brow at it and then, slowly, extended her arm towards it. The paper was cold and made Narcissa flinch a little when she touched it, she held it for a moment in her soft, pale palm before taking it with both hands and gently unfolding the note. Her eyes paroxysmally scanned all too quickly over the note, and when she was done it floated to the ground as she let it slip from her fingers, tears filling her eyes.

"Oh, Jean."


	8. Please Be Seated

One year later.

* * *

Hermione thought about her sometimes, in idleness, in sleep. Sometimes she dreamed of her, of their time together, of how it should have ended. She was always happy, however, when she thought of Narcissa. She would always smile to herself whenever Draco was being particularly insolent and she could recall all the _filthy_ things she'd done with his mother before he was born. She had, in fact, taken a great liking to it. Sometimes when she thought of her she tried to imagine what Narcissa was doing right at that moment, she found it hard to picture the stunning young woman she had gotten to know so well living with Death Eaters, in that cold house. Hermione never thought about her for long though, she couldn't. She had to carry on with Ron and Harry, trying to defeat Voldemort. The Narcissa she had loved was gone now anyway, replaced with the wife of Lucius and the mother of Draco, who was cold and reserved and a stranger to her. At least, that's what she told herself.

"Coming Hermione?" Harry called from the crowd ahead.

"Yes, sorry!" Hermione replied, quickening her step.

"She's probably dreaming about books again, hey Harry?" Ron quipped from Harry's side.

Hermione was almost lost amongst the crowd of people flooding into the stands, she could hardly hear anything aside from the roar of applause and cheering, waiting for the World Cup to start, most of whom were also waiting to see Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian seeker. In front of her she saw the ginger heads of the Weasley family bobbing up and down, she headed over towards them. As a small troupe they climbed the stadium stairs, higher and higher until Ron spluttered out between pants:

"Crikey Dad, how far up are we?" He said as he leaned over a railing, there were fewer people up here now.

"Well put it this way," Lucius, emerging out of nowhere onto an adjacent platform, interjected, "you'll be the first to know." He was so conceited it made Hermione's skin crawl whenever she looked at him, she hated the fact that he got to touch Narcissa.

"Father and I are in the Minister's box! By invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself!" Draco plinked, in the same arrogant tone as his father. Here, Hermione smirked to herself.

"Now Draco, there's no need to boast. It's impolite." Then sang an unfamiliar tone with a gentle rasp and a deep resonance, one which filled Hermione's ears and made her tongue curl inside her mouth, an instinctive response to the voice of Narcissa _Malfoy. _

She was suddenly paralysed, she couldn't speak or think, she could hardly manage breathing in and out. Time seemed to slow to an excruciating stillness as her lips parted a little and she let her eyes graze slowly over the _woman_ in front of her. She was wearing a long, green coat embroidered with silver thread which was tight around her, surprisingly, thin waist and finished at her calf. The coat wasn't especially tight, but beneath it Hermione had no trouble imagining what Narcissa's body looked like now, she felt a dull throb between her legs and her tongue began to lightly caress her teeth, which were now unconsciously nibbling on her own bottom lip, in want of something to do. She swallowed hard. Narcissa's cheeks had sunken, her eyes were still as an intense of a blue as they had always been and her lips… _her lips…_ were just as full and _soft_ as they looked before Hermione had kissed her that first time in the library. Her hair looked so smooth, and sleek - strands had been blown out of place by the wind that night and it made her look even more beautiful. She was still now, too still. A moment ago she had been unable to move, but now she was too still, she needed to move, to run, _to pounce _at Narcissa, and claim every piece of flesh she could with kisses and bites. _Mrs. Malfoy_ had decided that night to wear a high necked blouse under her coat, which Hermione now cursed her for. She let her eyes rest on the older woman's hands, her slender fingers hanging motionless in the air, Hermione at this moment was unable to comprehend the stoicalness with which Narcissa stood. She stared intently at the blonde's long fingernails, her head was suddenly filled with images and memories of those very same nails scratching and _tearing_ down her back, leaving a fiery path in their wake which had made Hermione moan uncontrollably. She clenched her fists as her breath hastened, she became increasingly aware of a wetness present between her legs, a sensation she had not had the _pleasure_ of feeling since she had left Narcissa one year ago. It had been 24 years to Narcissa. Hermione's thoughts were torn away, for a moment, from the breathtaking woman standing before her, with her husband and son, and were turned instead to Narcissa's memories, what was she thinking now as she stood across from Hermione, Harry and The Weasley Family, did she remember her? Did she even notice her amongst all those people? She lifted her eyes, slowly, from the floor up Narcissa's body, following the curve of her legs, over the flat expanses of stomach, climbing still across the gentle rise of her breasts beneath her clothing until she came to be looking into Narcissa's cerulean eyes, who was, at that moment, looking at her son, Draco. She didn't know what it was, then, that made Narcissa's gaze shift, skimming across all the people in front of her until those same cerulean eyes met and melted with her own. A soft moan escaped her lips which was taken in by the noise of the crowd and smothered, as if it hadn't occurred. A light smirk came to Narcissa's face, transforming her from this stranger to the young woman she had loved, and loved again.

"…Hermione." Harry had said something, but she didn't quite hear what. He grabbed a hold of her wrist and gently pulled her along with The Weasleys. Before she was entirely out of sight Hermione turned her head and found Narcissa already staring back at her, smirking. Hermione instantly blushed and she saw Narcissa's smirk morph into a smile.

* * *

Hermione squinted through a pair of tiny binoculars, a pair which Arthur Weasley had charmed to see ten times as far as they had before. She wasn't looking at the Quidditch game, wasn't looking for Viktor Krum, she was looking for Narcissa amongst the crowd. Hermione hoped that the Minister's box wasn't below them, otherwise she would be unable to uh… _examine_ Narcissa. A flash of platinum blonde hair and she knew she'd found Lucius and Draco standing at the edge of the box cheering, seated behind them with her legs crossed at the knee, was Mrs. Malfoy, staring blankly across the stadium, examining each bleacher. Hermione furrowed her brow and continued to watch, the throbbing between her legs had not ceased and she wished for it to stop, or for release. She cursed Narcissa's neck high blouse once more, from this angle of voyeurism Hermione's interest in the Quidditch match could be greatly improved.

* * *

She would think of her, sometimes, when she heard her son talking about 'Potter, Weasley and that _Mudblood_ Granger.' Blood status had never concerned her as much as it had concerned Bellatrix, Lucius and now her son Draco, it was just another way which she was different from them, and she didn't mind that at all. 'Jean Granger,' she would ponder, 'what ever happened to her?' She was often perplexed at how her son called her a Mudblood, and yet her mother was in Slytherin. Narcissa wouldn't think of it long, however, she much preferred to remember her moments with Jean, usually while she was outside tending the gardens of Malfoy Manor, smiling to herself as memories of Herbology class drifted into her head. Sometimes she would cast Lumos Solem over her flowers on cloudy days with her own wand which Jean had used more than once. No one ever knew about her liaisons with Jean, and she didn't mind it that way, her memories with Jean were her own - to treasure for as long as she lived.

She had paused a moment to let a group of people pass, ahead of her she saw Lucius and Draco no doubt showing off and boasting. Narcissa sighed to herself as she weaved through the crowds towards them.

"…By invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself!" She heard Draco say, he'd been talking about it all week to anyone who would listen. He was like an excited little boy, like he had been before Lucius had gotten to him.

"Now Draco, there's no need to boast. It's impolite." Narcissa said just as she came to see the group of people Lucius and Draco were boasting to.

This troupe of ginger children and two parents, she thought, must be the Weasleys. Of course, the dark haired boy was Harry Potter, she had heard more than enough about him to know his face. This, _this,_ must be Granger, she wondered what her first name was, she had never heard Draco or Lucius refer to her, _her_, as anything other than 'Granger' or 'Mudblood.' Narcissa's memory seemed to fail her, she could no longer recall what Jean looked like, all her images of Jean were suddenly filled with the young girl's face in front of her, standing awkwardly against a railing. She turned her focus away from 'Granger' trying desperately to remember what Jean looked like, with her auburn hair and dark eyes. Narcissa noticed this girl looking over her, unashamedly letting her eyes travel slowly up, up. She chuckled quietly to herself, it had been a long time since anyone had looked at her like that. Narcissa looked to her son, had he ever called this young lady by her first name? Or had she always been Granger to him. _Granger_ she thought to herself, the first time Draco had mentioned her she felt again a pain she hadn't felt in years, a pain she had felt once before, standing in the Slytherin common room in her 5th year, reading a very vague note from Jean saying she had to go. She thought then of the library and how Jean had kissed her and how she had made her cry out in ecstasy while she writhed against the bookshelves. The likeness was uncanny, Narcissa thought, between this girl and Jean, she wondered if they were in contact, if Jean had asked after her or if Jean even remembered. Internally then, she decided to glance at the girl, to see what was behind her eyes, the likeness may have ended at appearance, after all. Narcissa composed herself and scanned her eyes across the panorama of people in front of her, ginger, ginger, Harry, _Granger. _She was surprised to see the girl's eyes already on her own and found within them a wave of nostalgia and heartache, her eyes looked just as Jean's had all those years ago. She was taken back, suddenly, to their first meeting, to the Great Hall at breakfast when Jean had seemed off in another world and abruptly looked right back at her, with a slight hint of fear in her eyes. Narcissa saw the girl's throat twitch, as if producing sound, and her lips part a little. She did not speak, however, but Narcissa knew she had made a particularly throaty noise that no-one had heard, and perhaps only _she_ had seen.

"Come on, Hermione." Harry said, his voice deeper than she had expected, as he took hold of the girl and tore her eyes away from Narcissa.

"Come on, dear, we haven't time for these… people." Lucius said, walking ahead with Draco.

Narcissa followed them, with thoughts of Jean in her head and smirking lightly, but before she was entirely out of sight she turned her head around to see Granger, from the back this time, and still the likeness to Jean was remarkable. Before she turned away to return to her son and husband the girl's head turned quickly, eyes searching the crowd for her own and when they met Narcissa couldn't help but smirk, which made Granger blush. At which, she smiled.

'She is so like her mother…' Narcissa thought.

* * *

"Tell me Draco, what is that Granger girl's name?" Narcissa said, trying to make her tone sound as neutral as possible.

"Hermione. It's a filthy Mudblood name." He spat.

_Hermione._ She thought. "Hermione." She said. 'Daughter of Jean Granger,' she thought.

Her eyes grazed lazily over the crowd, searching for _Hermione_, the name still sounded strange to her. She believed it to be her uncanny likeness to Jean which made her unable to, at first, accept this new name. Row after row of witches and wizards fell under her focus, none of them Hermione. She tried then, to search for orange, for the ginger heads of the Weasley family. Still no success. Still no Hermione. She sighed and instead let her mind present Jean Granger to her, piece by piece, awakening in her a familiar yet foreign feeling which pervaded it's way to her core.

Screams suddenly filled her ears and she could see people pointing to the sky, an almost everyday icon morphed out of the dark clouds and she hoped that she would see Hermione again.


	9. A Wordless Spell

She hated this. She hated what her house was used for. She hated that even when she sat alone and quiet in her lounge room she could still hear the screams of Bellatrix's victims, begging for death. That spell, that _curse. _She had heard it too many times, she hated how it sounded as it flowed so freely from her sister's lips. _Crucio!_ she would scream, almost as loudly as her victims as they clung to the floor for protection. She hated it. This wasn't her house anymore, it was _his. _Voldemort. Figures dressed in black and reeking of stale air and Azkaban would invade the house, making it their own and smearing it with blood and death. The curtains were always drawn, it was always dark inside. She had grown pale and cold, she thought of Jean more frequently now, it was her only thought to keep her sane. Narcissa was shaken from her thoughts, standing in the corner of the room, by Bellatrix casting another Cruciatus Curse, another scream, another victim, another hollow shell of a human left for Nagini to consume. The victims were usually men, she never recognised them, she was glad when they finally gave in, it meant she wouldn't have to hear another sickening Crucio, for a time. But not today.

Today, sprawled out on the floor, kicking and screaming in time with the curses being regurgitated at her body, was Hermione. Narcissa stood, petrified, in the shadows as she watched her sister torture this girl, here, with her hair strewn about her face looking desperately around the room for a way out. The screaming filled her ears, she felt it in her chest and in her heart, this hideous sound escaping from Hermione's pert lips. Narcissa began to feel sick and dizzy, she breathed deeply in an attempt to calm herself. She closed her eyes and tried to go someplace else, she tried to think of Jean, of her 5th year at Hogwarts, but in thinking of Jean she was heartbroken. Here, in front of her, pale and shaking, was Jean's daughter, and she was doing nothing. All that she could think of now was how disappointed she would be, which brought tears to her eyes. She looked over Hermione's body, it was so similar to Jean's that it might have been her lying in the middle of the sullen grey room screaming for all the pain swimming through her. The thought of Jean on her lounge room floor weeping between curses brought the tears quicker, they streamed down her face as she stepped further into the corner, into the darkness to hide her sorrow. She watched her sister circle around the helpless girl on the floor, like a vulture, looking for a meal. Hermione hadn't given up, she wasn't broken yet. However, in her bravery she also infuriated Bellatrix, making her more determined. Narcissa knew that Bellatrix would soon resort to more gruesome measures to break her. A familiar glimmer of metal and she knew what was coming, and it made her skin crawl, she hated what her sister did to people. She hated what Voldemort had done to her family, and what her family was now doing to Hermione. Bellatrix swooped down onto the young witch, straddling her at the waist and leaned down close to her face and whispered something, Narcissa wasn't sure what. She darted then, from Hermione's face to her exposed forearm and began to dig into the pale, soft flesh she found there with the dagger she had pulled from her robes.

Narcissa looked at Hermione's face, at her crumpled expression, her eyes were squeezed shut and she could see Hermione's jaw muscles flexing in anticipation. Then, as the dagger made contact with fair skin, Hermione let out a moan of pain, it sounded, to Narcissa, exactly like something she'd heard before. In fact, it didn't sound like something she had heard, it was what she had heard. Twenty five years ago in the Restricted Section of the library at Hogwarts. She hadn't meant to hear it, nor had she meant to listen but the moan rose from Hermione's lips, _Jean's lips,_ and fell on her ears, rousing in her all of the deepest memories she'd all but forgotten. She, at once, recalled what Jean, _Hermione, _had looked like, she remembered what she smelled like, how she moved, how she blushed and how she _moaned._ Narcissa's eyes widened, she stood in shock with her mouth slightly open, tears still sliding from her eyes as she looked at Jean, _her Jean_, lying on the floor, in front of her now, in agony and screaming. She had heard before of time-travelling spells, of potions, but never had she thought that Jean wasHermione, the 'Mudblood' Draco spoke about from Gryffindor. She cursed herself again and again for not realising sooner. Something had to be done.

Narcissa stared in disbelief at the girl on the floor, her eyes bleary with tears as she stepped out of the shadowed corner and into the dusty light spluttering through her curtains. She saw Hermione's head shift and turn towards her, 'she must think me another Death Eater, come to cause her harm.' Narcissa thought to herself. Fear at first was all she could see in Hermione's eyes, until she saw that Narcissa had been crying and was now looking at her with sorrow wrought across her eyes, they stayed for a moment holding each other's gaze, in these seconds Narcissa's suspicions were held true, Hermione looked at her just as she had twenty five years ago, an expression of love wrote itself across her face and Narcissa hardly nodded, but it was enough for Hermione, whose eyebrows rose in an expression of disbelief. Narcissa stepped back into the shrouds of the corner of the room, biding her time. She would have to wait for precisely the right moment to act. Narcissa didn't look away from the young witch on the floor, whom she had fallen in love with all those years ago, she could hardly bear seeing her in so much pain. Narcissa's hand wandered slowly through the pockets of her coat, until they brushed over the familiar sheen of her wand. Her slender fingers wrapped around the wood and lifted it gradually out of her pocket, until she was holding it in her hand, ready to cast. Hermione had once cast Episkey on her, in Herbology, after a Fanged Geranium bit her. Narcissa cleared her head, and caressed her wand delicately, she heard the word unravel in her head, she felt her wand sing in agreement beneath her fingers. 'Episkey,' she thought as clear as if she had said it. Her wand warmed under her fingers and released it's spell. Across the floor she saw Hermione's blood, her forearm covered in red, her clothes stained with the metallic sanguine. One by one the letters carved into the witch's arm illuminated and healed, the tiny light was only visible because of the darkness. The letters shone as the redness faded, M… u… d…

At that moment a goblin, Narcissa recognised him from Gringotts, was kicked into the room by Dolohov, which seemed to please Bellatrix as she launched herself off of Hermione's stomach and cackled maniacally at having a…

"…new toy to play with! Dolohov, get out!" Bellatrix shrieked.

Narcissa knew this was her chance, Bellatrix had her back turned and Hermione was left unguarded. Her heart was pounding in her chest and the acrid fizz of adrenaline surged it's way through her body as she betrayed her family in a single step. One step, and then another, the sound of breaths filled her ears and it felt as if time had lapsed on itself. Three steps, one more to go now. She saw out of the corner of her eye, Bellatrix turn around slowly, she had been her sister once, but not anymore. Her sister wouldn't have done the things she'd done, she didn't feel remorse for betraying that creature. Narcissa felt her leg extend and lift off the ground, she saw Hermione, she had her eyes closed with tears streaming down her cheeks. It all happened so fast, those final moments. Narcissa bent her knee and lowered it until she slid along the hard, wooden floor, she spun, only slightly, until she was facing the direction she came from, next to Hermione. Narcissa swooped her dark coat over the young, broken witch and slid her arms under and around Hermione, one around her waist and the other holding her head to her own shoulder, Narcissa felt the warmth from the auburn haired girl's breath cascading down the bare skin of her neck, drawing a soft, '_Oh_,' from her lips.

"Hold onto me, _Jean_." She whispered into Hermione's hair, heat pooling at the front of her mouth.

Narcissa closed her eyes and held Hermione to her, she felt the girl in her arms reach up and tangle her fingers into her own blonde hair, she became aware suddenly of an arm wrapped around her waist, under her coat, producing an immense heat there as fingers nestled themselves in the weave of her clothes. In touching Hermione all the feelings she had for Jean were returned to her, awoken. Her hair still felt as soft as she remembered it, she fit into her arms as imperfectly as she had before. Their stomachs were touching as Narcissa protectively placed her leg over Hermione's thighs, covering her almost completely with her own body and coat. Narcissa inhaled deeply and squeezed Hermione to her own body, she wanted to hold her closer than her own skin. She wanted to feel the heat against her bare flesh which she had felt when her and Jean, _Hermione, _embraced and when they were connected. She opened her eyes and looked up at Bellatrix who was looking, wide eyed, at her. Narcissa began to apparate out of the Manor, with Hermione in her arms. There was a swirling of milky greys and for a moment of disorientation she wasn't sure if Hermione had come with her. Through the blur and spinning, the spinning of her body and the spinning inside her head, she heard Bellatrix cry out, a name she hadn't heard in years echo around her:

"Cissy!"


	10. Carnal Lullabies Part 1

Hermione's whole body untangled itself in a split second. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming, she wasn't sure if she was awake. Days and weeks seemed to blur themselves together until she had no idea where, or when, she was. She could remember Narcissa. '_Cissy, Cissy' _the name repeated itself over and over again in her head in a voice that wasn't her own. She could remember Bellatrix, and pain. She could remember pain, pain like chains around her body, wrapping tighter and tighter, seeming to burn her flesh, constricting her insides - and then, nothing, pain vanishing as quickly as it had come. So fast she was scarcely sure she'd felt it in the first place. And then, pain, suddenly, from nowhere. Crackling its way through her body, ripping her asunder, she was sure there would be blood. There had to be. She had heard a word too, repeated. Shouted? Screamed. C… Hermione knew it was a curse, a voice in the back of her mind had told her. C… C… The word had been spat at her, many times, with a shriek like gravel. She could go crazy like this, drowning in her own head, trying to work out what had just happened. Crucio. Cruciatus. Fuck. Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured her, with that _fucking_ curse. She had cut her, on the arm, marked her with 'Mudblood.' And then… what? What was this spinning? 'I'm not alone,' she thought. 'There's someone here, someone touching me, who?' Hermione's disorientation was only made worse by the apparation, her entire body was spinning and twisting uncontrollably. But only for an instant. Her thoughts were a mess and she could hardly comprehend that she was now touching ground, the weight of her body pulled her to the floor and she felt like throwing up. A buzzing filled her ears and the whole colour spectrum danced and shimmered in front of her eyes, she rested her head on the wooden floor, it felt too heavy for her neck to support. She felt her eyes roll back in her head as the world seemed to still around her. She heard someone call her name, but at this moment it felt like someone else's name, someone else's life. Hermione ignored the calling and slipped into unconsciousness.

"Hermione?"

* * *

The weight in her arms pulled her to the floor. Hermione was pale and sweating, her eyes were empty and Narcissa worried that she'd lost her to sanity to the Cruciatus. She lay Hermione gently onto the old and dusty floor boards as she removed her leg from across the girl's thighs. Narcissa placed a hand beside Hermione's head, supporting herself as she looked over her. The young witch's lips slightly parted, Narcissa felt an overwhelming urge to lean down towards that mouth and kiss it - but now wasn't the right time for that. Raising her hand to Hermione's neck she felt for a pulse, it was slow and weak, barely detectable beneath her fingers. Here, Narcissa lowered her head and turned it so that her ear was hovering above Hermione's mouth, listening quietly for breaths. As the yielding air spilled from her mouth it warmed Narcissa's ear, sending a shiver down her body, through her neck and through her lungs, until it reached her abdomen where it hummed and faded. From Hermione's neck she lifted her fingers and shaped them so that they cupped the girl's face in front of her, delicately stroking her supple flesh, so as not to disturb her.

"Hermione?" Narcissa called gently. "Hermione, can you hear me?" She knew the damage that the Cruciatus curse did to people, she had seen it too much and she refused to let it claim her_…_ She didn't know what to call Hermione then, as she lay unconscious on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. Her lover? Her affair? Or simply _hers_?

Narcissa stood, peeling her coat from her shoulders and letting it slide down her slender arms until it hung from her hand, she tossed it onto a dusty chair. Pulling her gaze from Hermione for a moment Narcissa looked around what had become of the Shrieking Shack, she didn't know why she had apparated here, it was the first place that would be safe to pop into her head. By the far wall was an old and dusty bed, it looked broken and unstable - but with a swish of her wand it appeared bright and new, and now was quite out of place in the worn down Shack.

"Wingardium Leviosa." Hermione's limp body floated through the air as if suspended by a string, her arms hung back behind her head and her legs swayed as she was carefully lifted onto the bed. "My dear Hermione, what has she done to you." Narcissa said as Hermione's back came into contact with the sheets, making them sink beneath her.

Narcissa placed her wand on the table next to the bed and looked Hermione over, head to toe. She furrowed her brow as she saw her sweater stained with blood, though the wound was gone. She pressed her fingers to her lips and walked around the bed, not quite sure what to do next. Hermione had said nothing to her before she apparated her out of the Manor, she worried for a moment that perhaps Hermione didn't love her now like Jean had. At this thought, she smiled. 'Hermione and Jean' she thought again, one and the same. Her troubles were soothed, then, as she remembered all the things which _Hermione_ had said to her, had whispered to her in the moments after they had been connected. A smile spread across her lips and she couldn't help but reach out and place her hand on Hermione's thigh, feeling the warmth there only for a moment. Narcissa stepped towards the head of the bed, and sat down, positioning herself on the edge of the mattress, leaning over Hermione. Here, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the buttons of Hermione's sweater, before dextrously undoing them. She moved to take hold of the bottom of the sweater, her fingers grazing over warm skin as a short sigh escaped her mouth, nervously she bit at her bottom lip as the garment slid up Hermione's torso, revealing the body beneath it to her gaze. Narcissa couldn't deny that the pale flesh of the young witch in front of her awoke within her a feeling she'd mostly forgotten, she thought it, however, inappropriate to be thinking of sex when her would be partner for the activity was unconscious from exhaustion. She furrowed her brow and chuckled quietly to herself, Hermione had passed out and she had meant to get her out of her bloodied clothes but here she was staring over her half naked body and her sweater was bunched up around her chin. She quickly stood and slid the clothing over Hermione's head, up her arms and off over her hands. Fully exposed, Narcissa could see Hermione's stomach rise and fall with each gentle intake of breath, she could see the muscles beneath her skin tighten as they forced air out through her lungs. Her ribs protruded slightly, as Hermione's torso was almost fully extended, the light fell across her chest, the most _exquisite_ shadows formed there. Narcissa held the stained garment in her hand and cast it aside as she set her eyes on Hermione's shoes. She pulled them gently off her feet and placed them on the floor at the end of the bed. She knew Hermione had been on the run from Greyback and his ghastly crew, her face was stippled in dirt and the tracks where her tears had streamed were still visible. Narcissa stepped quietly to the small table by the bed and picked up her wand:

"Scourgify." A jet of bubbles spouted from her wand and latched themselves onto Hermione's skin, staying there for a moment until disappearing, along with the dirt and grime she had apparently been covered in. 'Much better,' Narcissa thought to herself. 'well, _cleaner, _anyway.'

Narcissa stood for a moment then, simply observing Hermione, the way her legs were positioned, (one was slightly bent at the knee and the other was mostly straight) the way her head was thrown to the side and the way her breasts seemed to spill out of her bra, up towards her shoulders as she was lying down. She would have to wait, now, for Hermione to wake up, she dare not wake her before she was ready lest she cause her even more harm. Instead, Narcissa walked around the bed, to the side Hermione wasn't lying on and slowly eased herself onto it, before she lay down she slid her own shoes off and placed them by the bed. She was lying only inches from the girl, on her back. She herself shuffled and urged Hermione over to her, whose reaction was to rest her head on Narcissa's shoulder and tuck her own face into the curve of her neck, Hermione's arms unconsciously fell across her waist, drawing the two closer together. Pleasantly surprised, Narcissa wrapped her arms around the young girl, it felt just how she remembered it had, she felt at peace here, she felt still. The soothing in and out of Hermione's breaths against her ear slowly sang her to sleep, as if it were some carnal lullaby.

* * *

Hermione's eyes peeled open slowly, her body was still weak but her mind had figured out her current situation entirely. Narcissa had saved her. She had covered her with her own body, Hermione remembered, and apparated out of the Manor. Had she not been incapacitated by the Cruciatus Curse, Hermione mused, she would have certainly blushed, or moaned. She did remember, however, running her fingers through Narcissa's golden hair as it pooled across her own face, she remembered wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging lightly at her shirt. Their stomachs had touched, she had been very pleased about that, then disregarding her own situation, the warmth and familiarity of a soft, giving surface wrapped in thick cloth.

She looked over the face in front of her, in slumber and serene. Closer now, she examined how time, and perhaps the Death Eaters, had changed Narcissa. Her cheeks had thinned, she looked slightly gaunt and almost too pale. Her lips, her _beautiful_ lips, were still as sensuous as Hermione remembered them, though they seemed to jut out more from her face now that her cheeks had thinned so, they were darker also, their slight pinkness had faded over time and were now a light Sienna. Hermione let her gaze wander downward, until her eyes rested on Narcissa's body, she wondered how time had changed it, if at all. She let her fingers trail along the hem of Narcissa's top, and in doing so she realised her own state of dress as a bare forearm came into her field of view. To no one in particular, she blushed. Hesitantly, she slid her fingers under Narcissa's top, the remarkably warm skin there making her gasp as it sent shivers all through her body. It seemed to Hermione then that Narcissa had grown more beautiful with age, though her skin wasn't as smooth as it once was Hermione still couldn't help but touch her, just as she had when Narcissa was twenty five years younger. She heard Narcissa murmur in her sleep and stilled her hand, beneath her fingertips she could feel the contours of Narcissa's stomach depress, making way for her navel. The mostly innocent thought of Narcissa's navel made Hermione's breath hitch, and a swirling sensation in her abdomen made her squeeze her toes together. Narcissa looked almost vulnerable here, with her eyes closed and her eyelashes like black light radiating from them. She marvelled to think that some time ago, she wasn't sure how long since she'd passed out, Narcissa had been strong enough to betray her sister and rescue her, from right under Bellatrix's nose. She shuddered at the thought of a vengeful Bellatrix, she worried what kind of hideous things she would do to Narcissa should she ever catch her. Here, Hermione vowed never to let that happen.

* * *

Narcissa awoke to find Hermione's eyes already on her own.


	11. Carnal Lullabies Part 2

"Why?" Hermione asked, in a voice like molasses.

"Because I love you." Perhaps it was the sleep which cut her away from her inhibitions, or perhaps it was the sudden realisation that at that moment in time all Narcissa had was Hermione. She had longed for her and loved her, for years.

"You've loved me for all this time?" Hermione asked again.

"Yes." As she replied Narcissa breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, forcing her body to wake up from it's slumber.

Hermione was taken back slightly, by this woman before her, watching her sleep was nothing compared to the adoration she felt at that moment, marvelling over her beauty and at how comfortable she suddenly was, as if no time had passed between them and they were back in the Slytherin Dormitory. "…you are magnificent, Narcissa." '_Magnificent.' _She thought to herself.

"Hermione…" Narcissa said, the beautiful resonance of her speech passing over Hermione like a wave, leaving her swimming in it's wake.

"-that wordless Episkey was very impressive, by the way." Hermione said out of nowhere. "I just thought I should tell you before I forget."

"Oh. Thank you, I had to do something." Narcissa chuckled lightly at Hermione's enthusiasm, she seemed to be doing alright for someone who had very nearly been tortured to insanity. Here, she frowned. "I'm sorry about Bellatrix, for what she did to you."

Hermione furrowed her brow, slightly confused at the comment as she thought 'Bellatrix.. What? Oh!' She had all but forgotten about that since Narcissa had woken up, she was _barely_ able to focus her thoughts on a maintaining a coherent conversation and even that wasn't going terribly well, especially with that remark about Narcissa's spell out of nowhere. It was like she was again the nervous, blushing mess she had been in Transfigurations. "Oh, I hadn't thought about it, really. Thank you for saving me, Narcissa." Hermione suddenly had a compulsion to use Narcissa's name as much as she could, perhaps enjoying the feeling of having it fall so freely from her lips after keeping her Time-Turner incident secret from everyone - everyone save Crookshanks.

This time, it was Narcissa who blushed. A subtle colour spread from the base of her neck, creeping up her chin until it nestled and remained for a moment on her cheeks. Narcissa clearly felt it as she pursed her lips and look from Hermione's left eye to her right, smirking. "Anytime. It is inappropriate, I know, but we did make a very dramatic exit."

"In twenty five years, Narcissa, you've hardly changed." Hermione replied, playfully.

"Perhaps it's all to blame on the youthful company I now find myself keeping."

"Maybe." Hermione could hardly believe she was flirting so unashamedly with Draco's mother, after all this time of secretly lording it over him that she'd slept with his mother, before she was his mother. More than once.

"How did you know my name?" Hermione asked, a now smiling, Narcissa.

"Well, I asked Lucius after we saw you at the Quidditch World Cup at the start of the year, I thought you were your own daughter for a time!" Here Narcissa giggled nervously, "…and then, when you were sprawled out on the floor of my lounge room you made a very particular _sound_ which absolutely could not be attributed to family resemblance. And that's when I dove on top of you."

"I remember that part." Hermione hadn't flirted this shamelessly since she'd first been with Narcissa at Hogwarts.

"Tell me, Hermione, where did you get the name Jean from?" Narcissa asked, her brow furrowing lightly.

"It's my middle name."

"Clever girl." Narcissa murmured.

Here, Narcissa freed her hand from under the pillow and reached out towards Hermione, she watched her hand as it extended across the space between them, her hand found it's resting place on Hermione's waist. Narcissa lightly caressed the warm flesh she found there with her slender fingers, Hermione's eyes fluttered shut at the contact. The blonde witch let her hand roam up past her waist, her fingers lightly undulating over her ribs, in a gentle wave. Narcissa pushed her arm forward so that her fingers enveloped Hermione's side and then moved it back slowly and lifted, so that only one finger was in contact with pale, desirable skin as it staggered along the hem of Hermione's bra.

"What are we going to do now?" Hermione asked, a serious tone coming over her.

"What do you mean my dear?" Narcissa moved her hand from Hermione's bust to her cheek, where she caressed it briefly.

"I mean, well, now. Will you join the Order? Will we be together?"

"Oh.. Hermione, darling, you know I can't do that. We can't be together, you have your whole life ahead of you and I won't let you spend it with the former wife of a Death Eater and sister to one of the most infamous sadists in wizarding history. I couldn't do that to you. My life is over, Hermione, but you'll have me forever."

"I was so sure you would say that, I almost feel relieved that you have. But I don't regret it, you know? I don't regret being in love with you." Hermione shifted, first her legs and then the rest of her body, towards Narcissa so that by the end of the motion she was lying on top of the blonde witch with her thigh resting between Narcissa's legs and her arms folded across her chest, where she lent her chin.

Narcissa smiled at the movement, now feeling the girl's weight settle on her chest and pin her (most agreeably) to the bed, and then smoothed both her hands over Hermione's hair, "We'll always have then, all those years ago," here she chuckled, "it's almost like a dream to me now, blurred at the edges and exceptionally colourful."

"And we have now." Hermione added, smirking.

"Yes, my dear. We do have now."

Hermione unfurled her arms from Narcissa's chest and placed them either side of the blonde's head, her fingers entwined with strands of luminescence and Narcissa's scent rose and floated about her. They paused for a moment and held each others gaze as the world around them spun and travelled back, back until they were surrounded by the shadowy greys and the quietness of the Slytherin Dormitories, in their all too small bed.

She leaned down then, so her own lips were only breaths away from Narcissa's and exhaled, so the warmth from within her own body poured over the blonde's parted and waiting lips.

"Stay with me now?" Hermione whispered against her lips.

Beneath her she could feel Narcissa's staggered breathing making her stomach rise and fall rapidly, as if in a state of paroxysm. Narcissa's hands wandered over her back feverishly, grasping uncontrollably at any flesh they could.

"Yes." Came Narcissa's breathy reply.

Hermione lowered herself closer to Narcissa, so that their lips were now almost indistinguishable form each other, Narcissa, who was clearly frustrated, suddenly seized hold of Hermione's head and began to kiss her wildly, as if twenty five years of repressed thoughts and urges were suddenly flowing through her lips and tongue. A whimper escaped Hermione's mouth as the older witch raised her leg, which was nestled between her own, and firmly pressed it against her core. Hermione broke the kiss and pulled back slightly so she could look into Narcissa's eyes, her pupils were dilated and she was panting, Narcissa's hands still roaming across her body. Hermione moved her hand from beside the blonde's head until it was tangled in golden strands and pulled forward - Narcissa's head lifted off the bed, followed by her back, until the two had risen to a sitting position with the younger witch sitting on the elder's lap. Hermione wrapped her legs around Narcissa's slim waist and cradled her head with her two hands and kissed the woman in front of her. Their bodies collided together and the muscles of Hermione's back shifted and tensed as she clung onto Narcissa, the bones of her pubis grinding into the yielding flesh of the older woman's stomach. Between gasps and moans Hermione reached down, blindly and haphazardly, searching for the hem of Narcissa's shirt, when she found it the garment was peeled, very swiftly, from between them and vehemently cast aside. She was then both surprised and pleased to see that Narcissa, in fact, had _not_ been wearing a bra and now her voluptuous breasts pooled and flattened as they were pressed against her own.

"Hermione…" Narcissa moaned in a deep voice with reverberated around her entire body as she trailed her nails down Hermione's back, urging her closer.

* * *

These were her last memories of Narcissa, she had gone into hiding and Hermione had to continue the fight against Voldemort. She'd heard whispers about her, here and there, but she hadn't seen the blonde witch since their illicit rendezvous in the Shrieking Shack. Narcissa had saved Harry, she knew that much at least, she had come like a phantom and disappeared, Hermione kicked herself for weeks for missing, what felt like then was her last chance, at seeing Narcissa. She had written letters, after the war, and sent them to the Manor - she never heard back. But she knew they had been received because her owl always came back. Hermione grew tired of letters and owls, of whispers and phantoms. She decided, that morning, to go to the Manor and find Narcissa, to see what had come of her after these years.

With a swirling and a sudden solidness Hermione appeared at the gate of the Malfoy Manor, it looked so aged and abandoned Hermione almost left without looking inside, but for the records sake, she would be glad she did.


	12. Locked Doors and Vandals

It had been years since she was here last, and so much had changed. The structure itself seemed just as protrusive as it had ever been, jutting out of the earth as if it had been dropped there and left. The gates which usually spread across the front path like a steel cobweb swung open on their hinges, weary after so many years of service. The hedges which grew on either side of the path had clawed at the ground and spread their roots across it. This was not the Manor it had once been. Coming closer now to the front door Hermione saw that it looked battered, papers nailed into the wood fluttered against the breeze and scrawled across the front door in what looked like white paint: SCUM. Hermione sighed and thought of Narcissa inside, she would be alone and vulnerable to anyone who wished to hurt her. The great white letters melted as she got closer to them, shifting to a new word now: FILTH. The pieces of paper fluttering in the wind were clearer to her now, on them Lucius screamed silently, his blonde hair a mess and the fetid claws of Azkaban had clearly taken their toll on him. Hermione raised her hand slowly to the wood of the front door, the black paint it had once gleamed with was now cracked and flaking - she had hardly expected the door to still be functional and was immensely surprised when it swang gently open, silently, as if no time had passed. Stepping into the house Hermione was overcome, for a moment, with the acrid smell dishevelment. The hard wood floors, once a luxury, were now covered in dust and dirt - pieces of furniture littered the floor where they had been ransacked by witches and wizards, looking for a piece of the infamous Malfoys. Hermione was almost a ghost in this house now, she stepped silently and steadily over the rubble as the cold wind from outside trickled in through the seam between the door and it's frame. Here, her thoughts turned to Narcissa. Where was she in all of this? Hermione doubted for a second then whether Narcissa was even there, whether she had been unable to face the damage and abuse of her home and left. Hermione had to be sure, so she continued on through the house.

Walking through the entrance hall Hermione then came into the room she had been tortured in, though, now it looked so different than it had that time that it almost seemed like a different room, '…a different life.' She thought to herself. Hermione didn't stay long in there, she walked toward the dining room, where the Death Eater meetings had taken place. The vandals had come in here, the table was in pieces and the chairs smashed up, legs and backs sprawled out over the floor like so many splinters. There were doors in this room which she hadn't been through, walking over to one she peered through and found it to be the kitchen, with no windows and, like the other rooms, no sign of life. She moved from here to the other door in the room, it led to a corridor and at the end of it was a set of stairs. Silently, she walked through the dust and lay her hand on the banister of the stairs, wondering if it would hold her weight. Tenderly she placed one foot on them, and they creaked beneath her, and then the other. She made her way up the stairs and looked at the doorways that folded out before her. Three of four doors were open, and one was closed - locked, in fact. Hermione peered into the dusty rooms and saw only beds, she thought it was strange that Bellatrix and Lucius had slept in this house once. Now one of them was dead and the other might as well be. The room at the end of the corridor had beams of dusty light spilling out of it and this is where Hermione decided to look next. The room itself was mostly empty, aside from a bed and a nearly bare bookcase, on one wall were two enormous windows, which were somehow still intact. She walked over to the huge illuminated panels and waited for her eyes to adjust. Beyond the Manor's walls she could see it's garden, stretching out into wilderness, time had left it's mark there too and parts of the garden were indistinguishable from it. Hermione saw, at the very end of the garden, a dark figure, it appeared to be sitting, yes, it was much too short to be standing. She was weary, weary of who it might be, but then the wind blew outside and pulled the figures hair into the sunlight where it glinted and flowed around her head.

"Narcissa…" Hermione whispered to herself, her breath colliding with the glass and pooling into condensation.

Instead of walking through the labyrinthine halls of Malfoy Manor until she found the back door, instead, Hermione looked hard around Narcissa, at that particular area of garden and then closed her eyes and apparated, arriving instantly behind the blonde and unknowing witch. Outside again the wind chilled Hermione right through to her bones, she wondered how long Narcissa had been out here, and how long she had been sitting in the cold.

"Narcissa?" Hermione called, but her voice was stolen by the wind and Narcissa remained motionless.

Hermione walked a little closer to the witch, who was seated on a bench at the end of the Malfoy garden, and called again.

"Narcissa?"

Narcissa didn't turn her head but started talking in a very flat voice which Hermione almost didn't recognise.

"Lucius is in Azkaban, I live alone. Everything of value is gone from the house, please leave the premi-"

"Narcissa?" Hermione said for a third time, interrupting the woman in front of her who was saying something which was clearly incredibly familiar.

Here, Narcissa turned her head and looked at Hermione - first her eyes fell onto Hermione's stomach and then trailed up to her eyes, which she hadn't seen for two years.

Narcissa began babbling uncontrollably at the sight of Hermione, "Hermione, oh! I'm sorry I just assumed that you were another sight seer or vandal, you know I've had a lot of them round here since the war, looking for.. Oh I don't know really, just looking because they can. I'm sorry, I thought perhaps you were just another of them, which is why I wasn't more polite, I'm sorry. H-h-h.. oh, um, how have you been?" Here Narcissa stood up and smoothed her hands over her dress.

"Narcissa, it's alright, really. Sit down for a moment, please?"

Hermione took Narcissa gently by the hand and guided her back down onto the seat, they sat here for a moment in silence, Hermione perplexed at what the woman had been looking at here in this expanse of greys. The cold air seemed to rob everything of it's colour and as she turned to look at Narcissa again she could see that the greyness of the landscape had clouded her beauty and made her look _dull._ They sat close together, Narcissa's thigh was pressed against Hermione's and between them came a small notion of warmth.

"Why are you here Narcissa, in this house?"

"Because I've no where safe to go." Narcissa replied.

"Safe? I would hardly call this place _safe." _Hermione motioned back toward the house.

"There is one room, which no one may enter but me, no doubt you came across it." Here Narcissa turned to face Hermione.

"Why are you here Hermione?" Narcissa's eyes betrayed her longing.

"I've been looking for you, you know, since you disappeared after the war."

"It was just easier, for me, that way. To be isolated after all that my family did." Narcissa reached up and cupped Hermione's cheek with her hand, both women smiled at the contact in spite of the topic of conversation. The younger witch cradled Narcissa's wrist between her two hands, treasuring the contact.

Narcissa sighed nervously and trailed her thumb across Hermione's cheek. She leaned in slowly and felt the heat radiating off the young girl's body in front of her, Hermione moved one of her hands and placed it on the back of Narcissa's neck, where she felt strands of luminescence caress her fingers. The breath between them was contorted and compressed until it was no longer there and instead Narcissa and Hermione's lips had met, like a pool of heat which rose and fell as they massaged the other's lips with their own. A certain quickening awoke in Narcissa's abdomen and she couldn't help but moan lightly into the kiss. When they broke apart Hermione ran her finger's over Narcissa's lips as the blonde shivered at the newly intrusive cold.

"You are cold." Hermione said, standing up and taking Narcissa with her. "Is there somewhere inside where we could talk?"

"Oh… um, yes. Follow me."

Narcissa was still flustered after their kiss and was at first confused by Hermione's question. She followed the younger witch back toward the house and when they reached the back door Narcissa took the lead, taking Hermione upstairs to the locked door. Here, Narcissa took her wand out of her coat and held it to the lock on the door, after a few moments and a very distinct grinding noise the door clicked open and Narcissa walked though. Hermione followed the blonde and took in the room around her, it was larger than she had expected and was divided into two halves . On one side was a large four poser bed and on the other was a fireplace with a couch in front of it. It was this which Narcissa led her to.

"Incendio."

The blackened logs sitting in the fireplace immediately caught fire and began to crackle as Narcissa put her wand back into her pocket and slipped off her coat and draped it over the arm of the couch, inviting Hermione to sit down next to her. Narcissa hadn't known tenderness or familiarity in anyone since the war, she had saved Harry but still the wizarding world hated her and confined her to this _house._ This room seemed so unknown to her now that Hermione was in it, the auburn haired girl she had loved for the whole of her adult life, she had thought about her so much since the end of the war and it was almost like dream to have her walking freely around her own room. Hermione slid down next to Narcissa, turning her body slightly so that she might face her more easily.

"Why didn't you try to contact me, after the war?" Hermione asked earnestly.

"Because I have nothing to offer you, we can't have a life together Hermione, I've told you that before."

"I see. And what would you say if I said I wanted nothing else?"

"I would still say no, you see what kind of life I have here, you're too good for a life like that. You are too good." Narcissa's expression became light and she smiled.

"I wish things had been different," Hermione sighed as she rested her head on her hand. "I really do."

"It certainly would have been something." Here Narcissa brushed a stray curl from Hermione's face.

"Do you think much would have changed? I mean, the war and everything, if I had stayed with you?"

"I've often found myself thinking about that, and really, I think things would have changed a lot. Lucius wouldn't have a wife, perhaps Bella and Rudolphus would have to have had children. _He_, I should think, would still have risen. But perhaps not a second time. And I'm sure with you at my side in Slytherin we could have sabotaged them, and all their filthy plans." Narcissa's eyes, for a moment, got lost in the fire as she spoke, as if the thought had been written in the flames.

"Would you have believed me, if I told you about what they were planning?" Hermione questioned.

"I already knew what they were plotting, that group. Only I didn't know how to go about stopping them, so I said nothing."

Here, Hermione smiled to herself at the potential havoc her and Narcissa could have wrought on the past should she have asked her about Tom Riddle and his followers.

"Blood status never concerned me, Hermione. I don't see why it should concern anyone." Narcissa continued. "I always thought it made you more beautiful, you know, you're so powerful and elegant with your spells - I've been so lucky to know an anomaly like you. To love an anomaly like you."

"Oh, Narcissa…" Was all the reply that Hermione could fathom, she leaned over towards Narcissa, placing her hands on the older woman's thighs and kissing her first on the corners of her mouth and then on her full lips.

Narcissa smiled into the kiss and wrapped her arms around the lithe girl in front of her, many times she had imagined what would happen should Hermione ever come and find her, not surprisingly, it was mostly like this. Her arms contorted around the body beneath them, her svelte hands curling around the muscles of Hermione's side, Narcissa was so close the young witch that she could almost feel her heart beat, pounding in time with her own. She kissed Hermione as if each lave of her lips brought another tiny fragment of the girl into her being, for Narcissa to keep and treasure forever. There was a subtle desperation in their kiss, the finality of the moment wrought across their passions and invaded their embraces, fingers clutched and eyelids screwed shut in an effort to commit _everything_ to memory. Hermione moved her hands from Narcissa's legs and slid them up her warm body until they were both loosely clasping Narcissa's neck, her nails clawing lightly at the skin beneath them and each stroke drew gasps and purrs out of Narcissa's body. For a moment now, their kiss was broken when Narcissa moved herself off the couch, sliding onto her knees on the floor and in front of Hermione. She extended her back and tilted her head back, resuming the contact with Hermione who was now looking at her with heavy lidded eyes and an expression of want. For a time they stayed connected like this, Narcissa rising from the now darkening floor like a sapling in between Hermione's legs and reaching up to the girl and beckoning her down. The blonde slid her hands and arms around her waist and pulled Hermione closer, ushering her off the couch and onto the floor. Narcissa drifted backwards slowly, restrained by Hermione's hands gripping her across her back, the solidness of the warmed wood came into contact with her body and soon after a weight settled across her hips, Hermione was now straddling her and pinning her to the floor. Here, their kiss grew more heated as moans freely escaped both of their mouths. Hermione broke the kiss and sat up, letting her eyes drizzle over Narcissa's body, focusing on a small patch of skin where her shirt did not reach. Removing her hands from the older witch's body for a moment Hermione took hold of one of the buttons keeping Narcissa's shirt together and plucked it freely from its restraints, revealing more skin to her eyes as Narcissa squirmed and writhed on the floor beneath her in ecstasy. When Hermione's fingers came into contact with the second button, however, she decided that she didn't have time in such a frenzy to carefully remove Narcissa from her clothes, but instead drew her wand and aimed it and Narcissa's chest. The older witch looked cautious for a moment but when Hermione only giggled softly she was soothed.

"Diffindo." All at once Narcissa's buttons flew from her blouse, allowing Hermione to brush aside the material as if it were nothing, revealing to her gaze all of the blonde witch's body.

Sitting up for a moment Narcissa peeled the fabric from her arms, smirking at Hermione's use of magic - she had always been resourceful. Here, Hermione wrapped her arms around this woman, _her_ woman, pressing their bodies together as she did so she could feel the languid heat between them as tangible as water. Narcissa's skin was just as smooth as she had remembered and beneath it she could feel the bones and muscles of her body flex and shift. Hermione pulled her closer still as Narcissa arched her body into Hermione's and the auburn haired witch lowered her lips to her favourite patch of skin where Narcissa's neck met her shoulders and kissed it. She felt the woman's racing pulse beneath her mouth. Hermione's fingers quickly found the clasp at Narcissa's back and as fast as they had sought it out the garment was cast aside and fluttered uncouthly through the air until it landed on the floor, forgotten. Hermione had always revelled at Narcissa's breasts, they were _perfect._ Narcissa's arms squeezed the two of them together and Hermione could feel, through the fabric of her own shirt, Narcissa's nipples rubbing against her. Purely the idea of such an act taking place made Hermione's pulse quicken and her want grow more expansive, however, the realisation of the idea dragged a moan from her lips as she pushed Narcissa back down onto the floor. From the blonde's back Hermione's hands moved to her front and while her left arm supported her own weight her right hand found itself kneading and teasing Narcissa's breast. In a want of more Hermione's free hand slid it's way down Narcissa's flat stomach and paused for a moment just above the waist of her skirt, here Hermione broke their kiss and looked at Narcissa's face, it was flushed and her lips slightly swollen and her breath came in staggers as she anticipated what was to come. Continuing on her journey downward Hermione's fingers were constricted by the band of cloth around Narcissa's waist and forced deeper into the supple flesh. Fingers across her back became rigid and forceful as Hermione's fingers moved closer to exactly where Narcissa wanted them. Just coming into reach of her fingers Hermione could feel an enormous warmth emanating from Narcissa's core, she slid her hand lower until she felt, at first, wiry tangles and then an indescribable slickness. As soon as her fingers came into contact with the wetness and heat which Narcissa had produced a gasp escaped her own lips and a moan escaped the blonde's. Her hand was so constricted beneath Narcissa's skirt that only her fingers were mobile, and they developed an _achingly_ slow rhythm as the pads of her fingers _slid_ so easily over the ethereal sinew beneath them, making Narcissa squirm and moan, forcing her own body harder into the contact. The blonde witch was clearly incredibly frustrated as she tore her arms from Hermione's back and flung them against the floor where, above her head, they grabbed at the seams in the floor relentlessly, the muscles of her forearms dividing themselves into segments at the tension.

Suddenly, and without provocation, Narcissa sat up, quite frightening Hermione, and removed the younger girl's shirt and bra in a flurry of gestures before rolling her over onto her back so it was now Narcissa on top, with her pubis pushing between Hermione's legs. Using her own body weight Narcissa moved herself against Hermione, making her breath stagger and pulling moans from her lips. Their naked chests moulded together as orbs of flesh pooled against each other. Longing for more contact and more skin Narcissa began, with her free hand, to search blindly and wildly through her coat which was hanging over the arm of the couch, feeling for the familiar shaft of polished wood. Once she found her wand Narcissa dragged it along the crest of Hermione's jaw. The contact wasn't unfamiliar to Hermione, Narcissa seemed to like using spells during sex and this time would be no different. The wand grazed over Hermione's collar bone and down her sternum, between her breasts. Hermione began to wonder then whether Narcissa was going to use or wand, or if she was going to _use_ her wand, she began to feel anxious as the wand sank lower and lower. Narcissa finally moaned into their kiss:

"Depulso."

Slowly, Hermione felt her trousers and pants slide down her legs, she was surprised then to feel the flesh of Narcissa's legs revealing at the same pace. Somewhere in the back of her mind Hermione was quietly impressed at how much control Narcissa was exercising over such a, usually, powerful spell. Narcissa threw her wand to the side when it's duty was done, the thin wood rattling as it bounced off the hard floor and rolled off somewhere _else. _Narcissa placed a hand either side of Hermione's head and raised her body up, her hair hung down around her head like a screen of gilded light as she pushed herself harder against Hermione, both women let out moans at the contact. Hermione's hands flew to the blonde woman's hips, urging her closer, wanting more pressure. Here, Narcissa developed a rhythm, grinding herself into Hermione's core, faster than the girl had set previously. Hermione tangled her fingers into Narcissa's hair, tugging lightly at the strands at the same speed this woman was _fucking her. _A slight giggle escaped the blonde's lips as she watched the girl below her writhe in ecstasy as her moans grew closer together, it was now as if Hermione was moaning and keening in endless succession. Here, Narcissa lowered herself to rest on an elbow as her _dominant_ hand trailed down the younger witch's impeccably flat stomach towards the source of her revelment and euphoria. Narcissa's slender fingers first lightly caressed Hermione's core before sinking into _her_, the auburn witch let out a cry of pleasure as she dug her fingernails into Narcissa's fair skin, marking her. The older witch resumed her rhythm, though this time pulsing in and out of Hermione's heat. As the girl beneath her moaned almost uncontrollably Narcissa slipped to the side, so that her thigh was forcing her fingers deeper and her own core was pressed firmly against Hermione's hip. It was here that their _perfect_ rhythm forced cries from both their mouths as, simultaneously, they were brought closer. Narcissa felt although a cavern had opened up inside of her which she wanted to fill with Hermione, and only with her. It was a _wanting_ feeling, almost like a burning which made her cry out, to want to be filled or to be released, she didn't know which. Hermione began to see colours before her eyes, her whole world was bathed in a hue of cyan, she never knew why red was the colour of lust when all she saw was blue when Narcissa did _this_ to her. Against her leg she could feel the slickness and pure heat of the older woman's core, she loved what Narcissa did to her, how she made her feel - it was all so perfect.

Suddenly, the wanting begun to be to much, the cavern too deep and at once too full as Narcissa's eyes shut tightly and, louder now, moans came from her. Hermione too began to cry out as her fingers in Narcissa's hair squeezed tighter and the blueness washed over her. Narcissa was the first, but not by much, her back arching and her forehead pressing hard against the side of Hermione's neck as she cried out Hermione's name which brought the younger witch over the edge, suddenly the blues became orange and her mouth opened wide, spilling a series of expletives on Narcissa's ears - concluded by a single breathy expulsion:

"Cissy…"

* * *

Lying on the floor of the Malfoy Manor, with Narcissa Black's limbs tangled with her own Hermione reached toward her coat and fished something out of it's pocket, it's golden chain spilling from her palm as she silently carried it through the air, holding it close to her own face to examine it.

"Twenty seven years…" She thought to herself.

* * *

Golden light flickered at her eyes as concentric circles spun in on themselves.

* * *

_The End_


End file.
